


Sunday Night (Discontinued)

by sugarfreefox



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: BillDip, M/M, and emotional abuse, because for some ungodly reason i cannot write anything happy, depending on just how depraved i can make this haha, disregard bad writing for my second-ever fic, dub-con, i am a shameless billdip shipper fight me, sorry for not tagging earlier i just get so carried away, the rating may change later, there will be a lot of manipulation in here, wow okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2432318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarfreefox/pseuds/sugarfreefox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the very end of last year Dipper discovered a box he just had to buy, but had no money. Now back at Gravity Falls, he buys the box and gets caught up in cryptic messages both in the box, and in his phone. Just who is it texting him anyways? It won't be simply cryptogram cycles soon, though, when he meets a blond man who seems to know just what to say to keep Dipper wrapped around his finger, and puts the poor teen in a cycle of dependency and abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This is my first time writing Gravity Falls characters, and I continuously go through the wiki to keep them as close to their personalities as possible, so I apologize for any OOC moments. Constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated!

The text message simply said, “very cleer”, followed abruptly by a “*clever”. This number was unknown, however, and Dipper had no idea who this was on the other end. He typed back a “This is the wrong number.” message, but kept the person's messages in the phone. As he set the phone on his bed, he turned back to his point of focus, which was an old chest he had bought recently. He had seen it last year he was at Gravity Falls, but he didn't have enough money last year, so he scraped up enough money before they were shipped to their grunkle's in order to be able to buy the chest straight off. There were only so many days in the summer.

This chest was old and wooden, probably older than Grunkle Stan himself. Dipper shrugged to himself and thought 'Nah. Nothing is older than Grunkle Stan'. He ran his fingers over the once smooth wood and felt every groove slide underneath his fingertips. He opened the top of the chest and peered down into the empty inside. No carvings, no nothing. It was old and perfect. As he reared his head out of the box, something light and textured fluttered softly onto the floor. Its presence would have been masked if not for the absolute silence in the room otherwise. Dipper grabbed the paper and held it in his hand, looking over the letters inscribed darkly into the fibers.

WO HK MOPOHCHUT DVR

Hope flared in his heart at the prospect of a new challenge. A cryptogram! Left here for him to figure out on his own! What could it possibly be, if even English at all? He whipped around and reached over the mess on his bed, grabbing the journal #3 that was left there. The book was opened before he even had it before his eyes, and as he ran over any decryption notes he could find, the excitement began to compress. There were no answers in here. He'd have to go somewhere he could find more options, and books on ways to figure out these things. The stereotypical place to go for problem solving. The library.

His phone buzzed again, and he looked to see another message from the number that had sent him an unwarranted text prior. This one said “is it really???”. There was literally no reason for that many question marks, Dipper wondered why on earth someone would feel the need to emphasize a question that much. He decided to bite the bait and respond once again, this time saying, “Buzz off, dbag.” He was not in the mood for dealing with creepy texts. That was an issue for a later day, if these texts even continued.

The 15 year old boy stuffed the piece of paper inside the journal, and in turn shoved that inside his vest. He still wore the same type of vest, just a little bigger to adjust to his rapidly growing body. He was still slightly shorter than Mabel, however. Just slightly. Before leaving the room, he closed the rounded top of the chest and pressed the lock back into place. There was no key, but it looked better closed than open. He shoved it beside his bed, hoping that it wouldn't get ransacked. After making sure that the chest was in a suitable location one last time, he made his way downstairs. The shack was stuffy from the heat, and Dipper longed to be outside, where he could breathe properly.

“Grunkle Stan!” he called out into the thick air.

“What?” came the disgruntled reply.

He took a deep breath and told himself that even if his uncle said no, he was going to stand up to him. “I'm going to the library okay?”

He got a loud grunt in response. That would be a yes, he was sure of it. He held back most of a smile and opened the door, feeling a blast of slightly cooler air hit him. It was definitely better outside.

A few steps down and he was on the grassy landscape outside the Mystery Shack, in the clearing that was free of trees or shrubbery of practically any kind, except for that single stump, which for some unknown reason, Stan had decided to leave there. He fondly recalled managing to chop wood for the first time on that stump. Continuing his walk, Dipper began to tread down the path that lead to the town. He was eager to get some solutions to this paper. His second day back at Gravity Falls and he already had a mystery. It was nothing big like summoning a demon, but who knows what lie in the code? The password to some forgotten laptop? The secret passphrase in some society? The possibilities were endless, and oh how they excited the teen. Yes, he was a teen now.

The walk to the town was entirely uneventful, but once he got into town, the whole trip got so much more amazing.

“Wendy!” Dipper's heart fluttered in his chest at the sight of her. She was an adult now, right? He counted in his head, 13 14 15, which was three years, then 16 17 18, yep, she was an adult. It really was only last year he had been teasing her about being 17. The null year.

She was alone, leaving a little shop with a bag in hand, “Oh, hey Dip. I didn't know you were back in this dump.”

He shrugged and laughed, “You're so funny.” Dipper blinked a few times, “Oh, but uh, yeah, Mabel and I got here yesterday. She's out doing God knows what, and well, uh-” the boy was unsure if he was supposed to tell her he was going to the library. Did teenagers even use the library in this town? He didn't want to be even more of an outcast. While he was spacing out, he didn't realize the redhead had asked him a question.

“Earth to Dipper- you're headed off to the library aren't you?”

“How'd you know?” he inquired, his voice incredulous.

“I know you, Dipper. You're the type of researchy nerdy teen.”

Dipper's phone buzzed, and it seems Wendy took that as an opportunity to end the conversation anyways. She was probably very busy. “Anyways, I have work tomorrow, so I'll see you at the Shack then, okay?”

He nodded a little too enthusiastically, “Okay.” He gave her farewells until she rounded a corner and was out of sight.

When she was gone he turned back towards the direction of the library and inwardly groaned. He guessed it was the annoying texter from earlier, whoever that was. With a suppressed sigh he opened his message box and looked at the message that had popped up: “stop”.

Stop what? He looked around to see if there was anyone that looked out of the ordinary. Well, out of Gravity Falls ordinary, but with the people around here, it was impossible to tell. There were plaid-encased people walking alongside people decked in cameo, whom he had a burning desire to walk straight into and claim he didn't see them, plus a few rather dashing fellows with their equally dashing partners. Yeah, this place was impossible to tell who could be sending the texts, if they were even here at all.

After shoving his phone back in his pocket and taking a few steps, he felt it buzz again. With an irritated groan he pulled it back out and checked the message, this time walking as he read. It would be best to get to the library with time to spare. He'd be there a while, and it would be easiest not to have to deal with renting books. The shack wasn't exactly the safest place for valuables. He put his focus back in tune with reality and read the newest text, “she'll never be into you. who could like someone like you???”

His eyebrows furrowed in indignation. Such rudeness! He angrily responded by pounding the keys in succession, making quite a few typos but going back to correct them immediately. After trying to spell “don't” three times and failing all three, he just sent the message “Please donnt contact me again.” There's only so many times you can try to fix an error before throwing the phone would be more efficient.

He turned the phone off entirely. If someone needed to contact him, too bad. He shoved the phone into his vest pocket and almost stomped his way to the library. That text had actually hurt. He knew he never had a chance with Wendy, especially now that she was considered an adult (his mother had said that having a relationship with someone over 18 while you were under 18 was illegal, and called something that sounded like the root word for foot) but that question at the end left him stuck. He was likeable, right?

Right?

As he got to the library his mind was still preoccupied thinking about the rhetorical question, but once he was actually looking in the books his mind got occupied with better topics. The insulting text was shoved to the back of his mind, leaving room for the excitement previously hidden to come out again. He was going to figure out this problem!

Dipper began to pull books off the shelves and pile them on the floor beside him, where he'd planned to grab them and take them to a table not far from here. Anything that had the word “crypto-” in the title was taken, and when he had a suitable stack, he hefted them up and staggered to a table, letting out a satisfied sigh when the table lightly creaked underneath the weight of this knowledge. Yes, he was going to crack this like an earthquake. The teen sat in the chair and pulled out the journal #3, rapidly but gently yanking the flattened scrap of paper that held the message on it out of the book and restuffing the book in his vest, safe from prying eyes. He had deliberately chosen the table that was the most hidden in the mystery section. He set the paper on the table and grabbed the book on the top of the stack.

He spent hours reading through the books and finding information that would make solving this problem easier, such as the idea that the letter “e” was one of the most common letters in the English language at a staggering 12.51% approximation. Surprisingly, T was the second most common, with A following shortly after. He followed this pattern and tried to make sense of the cryptogram, but it seemed as if the cipher for the issue was a jumble of letters. Some letters may have even been used twice, who knew how important this paper was?

Suddenly a jolt of realization blew through his mind. This was paper. This paper wasn't faded, or burned, or creased, or laminated, or even preserved. It was clean. It was in good shape except for the ripped edges.

It was recent.

His grin grew a little at the prospect of getting even somewhere with this problem, but as the time passed and the scraps of paper with possible answers on it became more and more frequent, his mind was exhausted. Dipper was just standing up, preparing to check out a few of the books for some late night studying when he noticed someone standing across the table from him.

Dipper nearly yelled but held his hands over his mouth to muffle his gasp, in turn effectively dropping a few hefty books on the desk, which made a resounding “THUMP” resonate through the library.

The blond man across from him grinned, “Way to make a scene.” His voice was soft in a library-style whisper, if a bit high pitched for someone who was...how old was this guy? Dipper couldn't tell on looks alone.

“Excuse me?” the brunet teen hissed back, keeping his voice low.

The man grabbed one of the cryptogram books and held it close to his face, peering into the cover, “Cryptograms? Aren't you a little young for this sort of brain numbing work? And during the summer too, ha! What a teacher's pet. At least you might have some smarts.” The man's obnoxious voice could barely be qualified as a whisper at this point, and people were beginning to shoot glares in their direction.

Dipper reached out and grabbed the book back from the man, holding it close to himself with a pouty yet angry expression on his face, “I'm just busy.”

The man raised his eyebrows and looked him up and down once with hooded eyes and a sly grin, “I can tell you're super busy.” the super was exaggerated to an irritating degree. “You look too much like trash to have a life. I guess that's the new style you kids have nowadays,” he laughed rather hard at his own joke, practically wheezing. Dipper just glared.

“Well,” Dipper interjected, “I'm super busy,” he parodied the man's statement, “so go away.” He stacked the books in a pile and picked them up, immediately walking away towards the shelf they came from. When he set the books down and looked back around the bookshelf, the man was gone. Sighing in relief, he reshelved the majority of the books, keeping the three most helpful ones for himself to check out.

XxXxX

Dipper got home late that night. He had lugged the books back to the Mystery Shack, and was completely exhausted by the time he got home. His arms felt like noodles. He skipped dinner, snuck past Stan and Mabel, and went straight to bed. Which for him, in actuality, was making more attempts at solving the cryptogram. He wasn't even sure why he was giving it so much attention any more. It just seemed forced, like something really really wanted him to solve it. An innocent pastime turned into a regretful obsession.

The teen lied back on his back and remembered his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and noticed it was extremely warm. It had been turned off the whole day, and it wasn't even that warm at this time of night. He turned it on, and was greeted with a shocking amount of messages.

A whole 10.

His eyebrows threatened to fly away with how far up his head they were. Upon further inspection, five of those were from the strange number, four were from Mabel, and the last one was from Wendy.

He opened the one from Wendy first. He couldn't suppress a grin as he read the single word she had texted him.

“nerd”

He laughed a little bit and opened the ones from Mabel next. In order from oldest to most recent they were, “where r u?” “gnkl stan says come home” “bro?” “dip dip!” and last but not least, “im gonna make u do the lamby dance when u get home”.

He simply grinned in a smug manner and opened the attic door, then called down the stairs, “Mabel, I swear to God, I will never do that dance again.”

Dipper heard a muffled, “Dipper!” come from the kitchen and he laughed, shutting the door and pressing his back against it. He pushed the door closed as his sister on the other side tried to open it, and soon enough the door was open enough that Mabel was clearly gonna win the fight. Dipper doubled over in laughter and was immediately tackled by his sister, still decked in sweaters, who proceeded to sit on top of him and pin him down. “I am so mad at you I can't even bear to see your face,” she huffed, her voice filled with mock indignation as she turned her nose away from him comically.

“Whatever shall I do?” he fakely pleaded, still letting out weak laughs. She stood up and held a hand out to him, as if to make peace. Her clinquant sweater left his back covered in silvery sparkles as he took her offered hand and stood up.

“Where were you?” she inquired.

He pointed at the books on his bed, “Library.”

She laughed, “You and your books. Well, I managed to get Grunkle Stan to let you stay out late, but I won't cover for you again!”

He crossed his arms over his chest, “I bet you will.”

Mabel rolled her eyes, “Yeah I probably will. I love you bro bro.”

Dipper rolled his eyes as well, “You too, Mabel.”

As she waltzed over to her bed and hopped on the mattress, he sat on his and pulled a few of the books over to him, which earned him a very obtrusive sigh from the other side of the room. “Dipper.”

“What?”

“Go. To. Sleep. It's like, ten.”

He rolled his eyes again, “Fine, fine. Goodnight, Mabel.”

A faint goodnight from the other side of the room told him Mabel was probably halfway asleep already.

He turned the light off, but turned on a side lamp near his bed and angled it at his book. He went through sheets and sheets of notebook paper trying to solve the cryptogram, but it was almost as if he was just a little out of reach. He almost managed to get the last word, but it never matched up properly with the first two. It was around 3 in the morning when he finally turned off the light and went to sleep.

Dipper's dreams were distraught. It was filled with grey filth, some sort of matter that made him think of one of the terms for the brain, which was “grey matter”, but it didn't seem right that he was surrounded by this. In all the mentions of dreams in the journal, and with all the talk about dream meanings, there was nothing about brains. In his dream he was slowly sinking, and as he tried to get out, he grasped desperately for anything to pull himself to a safe place as he yanked his feet out of the sucking liquid, but no matter where he stepped he simply sank deeper. Everything he grabbed melted in his hands, a grey and blue mix of mush. His heart was in his throat as he began to sink faster, and as he thrashed and cried out, he tasted salt. Lots and lots of salt.


	2. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper solves the cryptogram with the help of that blond freak he met yesterday, and just can't catch a break when he's left with another one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the person who solved the last cryptogram - nice job, I like you.  
> Good luck figuring out this one. I have hope for you.
> 
> If there's one thing I'm good at, it's churning out chapters. Solve my "clever" little things to get me off my ass and start plotting the next chapter.

Dipper woke up to a bed completely clean of blankets and papers. They were all on the floor around him, scattered in the lush early morning light that seeped through the window. He pressed a hand to his head and smacked his lips, taking note of the salty taste. He remembered the dream. After blinking a few times to clear his head, he worked on setting everything back on the bed, in turn occupying his thoughts with the dream he had the night before.

What in the actual hell was that dream? He'd never dreamed in black and white before, well, mostly black and white, and why on earth would the matter he got sucked down into taste of salt?

After he had finished putting the bed back into a more proper order, Dipper pulled out the journal. He knew there would be nothing on the mind being incorporated into dreams, but he was concerned about salt. What was salt used for?

He didn't even need to book to figure that one out. Salt, in a line or a circle, commonly was used to keep demons away or trapped. But what on Earth did salt have to do with his mind?

There was no time for dealing with that at the moment. He needed to solve the message. Dipper looked around for wherever the scrap had fallen and picked it up, smoothing the crumpled paper. It was nearly ripped in half. His thrashing in his sleep must have done a number on the paper. He carefully placed it on his bed and grasped the cipher books from where he had restacked them, opening them in the process.

Dipper had managed to find the first two words, “HE IS”, until commotion stopped him. The boy hadn't even noticed how much time had flown. He took note of the fact that Mabel was up and out of the room when he looked over to her bed and noticed her missing. Wow, he was getting really deep into this. He looked back at the paper and tried to input the letters into the rest of the code, but it was just too loud. A pig was squealing and the old man was yelling. Too obnoxious. He wanted to go somewhere, and he might as well bring the books to return them to the library. He definitely wouldn't be needing these any more, and no use letting them rack up fines, right?

It would be easiest to sneak away. If Grunkle Stan caught him he'd most likely rant to him about not getting back at the Shack at a reasonable hour the night before. As if he even cared. Nobody cared, isn't that what the text said? Dipper had to blink and shove the negative thought out of his mind.

Wait.

The text.

Dipper had completely forgotten to read the last five texts he had gotten the night before! He was so caught up in his enjoyment over Wendy's text and-

Wendy!

He couldn't leave today, Wendy was working at the Shack! But he needed to solve the message. He could go outside and solve it quickly before going back in and talking to her, right? He'd easily solve the last two words. “-E-IE-I-- ---” it wouldn't be that hard.

Before his train of thought got even more abstracted, Dipper scrambled over the bed and founds the phone. The 5 from the strange number hadn't changed. That...actually surprised Dipper. With how anxious it was to talk to him yesterday, he'd expected a lot more texts. He looked at the time in the corner of his phone's screen. 8:48. Maybe they didn't wake up until noon? It was summer after all.

He shook his head to get his mind back straight to focus on the texts. In order from least to most recent, they were “watch out”, “hes right there are you blin,” “*blind”, “hey stupid its night why are you” “alone???”.

What the actual hell. The boy peered closer at the words. This person was definitely following him somehow. But who was the 'he' they were talking about?

He decided that he'd deal with the consequences of a response, and texted back, “Who are you talking about? Why are you following me?”

There was an instantaneous response the moment he sent it. That was unbelievably quick. Almost unnaturally quick.

“Nevermind. Don't worry about it.”

Dipper bit his lip and shook his head a little, slightly disregarding the alarm that rose in the back of his mind. He'd take care of that later.

Putting on his vest, stuffing the three rented books in a backpack, and heading downstairs, the volume only amplified, and Dipper made sure his hands were free when he entered the main part of the shop. As he scanned the room, he identified Grunkle Stan, Mabel, and Wendy. No Soos though. That was a minor surprise. With a huff he trudged over the floor to where Wendy stood at the register, reading the same magazine that she seemed to always read.

“Hey Wendy,” he piped up beside her, sitting on a stool.

She smiled, “Hey Dipper, did you get whatever it was you needed at the library?”

“Almost,” he set the backpack on his lap so it wasn't pulling him down the back of the stool, “Though I did stay out late trying to lug these heavy pieces of crap home, so Grunkle Stan's a little mad.”

“Oooh,” she gave him a small wince, “finally hitting that rebel teen age?”

He laughed a little too hard, “Yes, because staying out late for the library is rebellion.” In truth it was a minor act of rebellion. He was standing up to his Grunkle in a rather passive aggressive way. Staying out late and avoiding the man when he was in the shack. Technical rebellion is the best rebellion.

She shrugged, “Next time, tag a wall or something, it'll do your little teen mind good.” The little smile on her face suggested that 'tagging a wall' was not what Dipper thought it was. It was not touching a wall and telling it that it was 'it'.

“Haha, yeah, I'll do that,” he stammered, hoping he wasn't making as much of a fool of himself as he thought he was.

Dipper had opened his mouth to say something else when his voice was interrupted by the familiar sound of a gravelly, sharp voice. “Dipper, Wendy, get your butts in gear and get back to work.”

Wendy shrugged and Dipper took the opportunity to try and impress the girl, “Oh shove it, Grunkle Stan.”

He immediately regretted those words as Wendy sidestepped away from him, and Grunkle gave him a challenging look, “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, you heard me,” he winced a little as his voice cracked in his response. He thought he had gotten out of voice cracks last year.

“I will make you repaint the sign for that sass!”

Dipper puffed out his tiny chest a little, “You know what? I say no.” He was shaking, but he wasn't gonna back down. This was also a perfect excuse to leave the shack. Get his Grunkle mad, then leave. Dipper hefted the backpack onto his back, “I'm leaving.” He opened the door and held up one fist, “Teenage rebellion!”

From the other side of the room he heard his sister's voice copying his statement, and before his Grunkle could get any more red-faced and begin chasing him around the shack, Dipper decided viva la revolution and he took off running.

He ran as fast as his legs would take him towards town, and he knew he was gonna be in a ton of trouble later, but the thought of maybe impressing Wendy was worth it, plus he was out of the Shack, which in itself was good. Dipper slowed his run to a walk when he was far enough away from the Shack. He knew his grunkle was mad, but not mad enough to come after him when tourists were in the shop. Money over family is how a business grows.

Dipper walked to the library and put his books in the book return bin before spinning on his heels and leaving. No use staying in the library. The text that he had received yesterday was in the back of his mind. The one that said “he's right there are you blind”. He immediately thought of the blond man who had judged him the day before. If that man was in the library again, Dipper did not want to be there at all. So, the teen decided to find somewhere else, somewhere that would be quiet enough to work.

As he walked around the town, he kept his eyes open for a shop that he could easily sit at and not worry about being bothered. Part of him wanted to find a place where other teens would be hanging out, but he was here to solve this problem, not make friends.

He settled on a small cafe. After ordering a small soft drink, Dipper began to work again on the problem. He was just about to input a solution that seemed to work, when a hand came down on the table loudly to get his attention.

“Huh?” he gasped, completely startled out of his temporary thought trace as he looked up.

Oh no. The blond man. He should have stayed at the library.

“You're awfully persistent,” the man's voice was cheerful, and as obnoxious as before. A cup that reeked of coffee was held in his hand. “Hats off to you.”

“You again,” Dipper protested, letting out an angry groan afterwards. “Leave me alone, I'm super busy.” He couldn't help but insert that phrase from the night before.

The man didn't budge. Rather, he seemed to get more focused, resting an elbow on the table and putting his head on his hand, “Did you solve it yet?”

Dipper glared a little, unsure whether to trust this guy or not. He still had no idea how old he was, “Umm, no, but I'm really close, and you're bothering me.”

The man grabbed one of Dipper's solution papers, much to the teen's absolute displeasure, and held it up in the light. As he stared at the paper, he grabbed a packet of salt from the nearby flavouring bin, and put the salt into his coffee. Dipper was tempted to tell him that it was salt, and was nearly about to mention it, when the man interrupted him, “Oh that's easy. Put in the M as D, the P as C, and..wait.”

Dipper did not wait, though. He was already inserting the two letters the man had tried, and the information he had been given allowed him to make a fairly accurate guesstimate. 'HE IS DECEIVING ---'. His eyes widened slightly. There was no way the last word wasn't 'YOU'.

With a hesitant look, Dipper raised his head to look at the strange man.

The blond man was looking at him with half-lidded eyes and a smug smile that counteracted his seemingly wary behaviour before when he had told Dipper to wait. The guy took a drink of his coffee, and Dipper flinched in expectation of a spit-take, but the salt didn't even seem to phase the man. “I wonder who in this world the message could be talking about?” His voice was terse, almost dangerous. Dipper's phone buzzed.

“Don't answer that,” the man across from Dipper said as the boy began to reach for his phone. With Dipper's incredulous look, the man quickly tried to justify his prior statement, “Don't answer that and I'll tell you a secret.”

This man was weird as hell, but Dipper was curious. Was he so curious that he'd not answer the text? Yes. It could easily wait until he was out of the shop and down the street. The teen raised his head and peered at the man, “Tell me.”

The blond man raised one eyebrow, “Promise me you won't tell?”

“I promise.”

The man extended a hand to Dipper, “Shake on it.”

Dipper decided to just go with it, and he shook his hand. A sharp bolt of pain hit the centre of his palm, but it was gone as soon as it appeared.

The man leaned across the table and motioned for Dipper to lean across as well. The older fellow put a hand to the side of his mouth and whispered, “Wendy likes you.”

The teen's eyes widened and he couldn't suppress a grin, “What? How do you know that?”

The man stood up, “I said one secret, kid, but I will say that I knew her in school. I was her best friend.”

As the man started to leave the shop, Dipper almost yelled out, “Wait!”

The man leaned against the door frame, “Yes?”

“Can you tell me your name?” the boy inquired, desperate to find something to tease Wendy with later.

“Bill,” the man gave Dipper a one-word answer and left. Dipper's phone buzzed again.

It was the strange number. The first text from before was “dude get your butt out of there youre in danger hes there”, the second one he had just received was, “oh my god”

Dipper sighed, knowing he had to respond, “Oh my god what?” He set the phone down on the table and waited for a response. He started gathering up his used papers and stuffing them back into his backpack when his phone buzzed again.

“you're gonna get your a”

Staring at his phone for a solid minute, Dipper tried to figure out what the text was trying to convey, when another message popped up. “Disregard me.”

Dipper bit his lip, unsure what was going on. He wasn't so sure if he was going to respond again, however. The text message had said to disregard the number, and it was draining Dipper's minutes a substantial amount, so he decided to do as the text commanded and not respond.

He grabbed the piece of paper he had found in the box and looked at it again, nearly dropping it when he saw that it was now in two halves, and the writing was different. There were no eraser shavings, and he was pretty certain what had been written was in ink, not in graphite. He looked at the letters and made an attempt to use the cipher he had used before, to no avail. He was simply rewarded with “TDMH UTHH IWRH LH”. That made no sense. Dipper didn't have much of a desire to solve this one, though. It was too complicated, and he hadn't even solved the last one without the help of that guy, Bill.

He mentally berated himself for even possibly considering asking that blond weirdo for help. Not only because he had no idea where to find him, but because the man simply creeped him out. He shoved the two halves of the paper into his backpack, not caring too much about the prospect that they would be lost in the massive amount of notebook paper that had been carelessly stuffed inside.

Dipper decided to go home, deal with Stan, and ask Wendy about the strange man. He said he was her best friend, but he wasn't quite sure if he was telling the truth or not. He really wanted to hope that he was, because of what Bill had told him about Wendy. This led Dipper's wild train of thought to go to the guy's possible age. He could be, like, 20 years old max, right?

The teen had to prevent himself from skipping back to the shack.

XxXxX

Once he got back to the shack, Dipper saw Stan outside, standing on the steps, his arms crossed over his chest. Dipper sighed, “Hello, Grunkle Stan. I'm sorry for leaving.”

“You'd better be,” the old man huffed and handed him a bucket of paint and a paintbrush. “I'm staying true to my word, though. Go paint the sign.”

It took Dipper the rest of the night to paint the sign, because he deliberately took forever so as to not be made to do anything else. He was extremely mad about not being able to ask Wendy about her strange friend, but he decided that he'd wait until tomorrow. He finally made it to bed around 11 at night.

Once again, his mind was infested with strange dreams. Although this time, instead of salt, he tasted vinegar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2x double reacharound cryptogram
> 
> Pay attention to capitalism, young ones.


	3. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey who's that guy again? We haven't seen him in a bit have we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pay attention to detail.

Who woke up wanting to vomit? Dipper Pines did. The rancid taste of vinegar flooded his mouth and made him dry heave. He staggered out of bed and rushed towards the bathroom, collapsing on the floor on his knees and gagging in the general direction of tee toilet. The occasional vinegar was fine, but when it feels like your mouth is so full that you're drowning in it? That's a little gross.

Hearing her brother's dismay, Mabel walked into the bathroom, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, “Bro are you alright?”

“Oh, yeah, just fine,” Dipper grabbed a cup sitting on the counter and filled it with water from the sink, using the water to wash his mouth out.

“Have another nightmare?” she asked, leaning on the counter to his side. A small smile flickered over her face, “Maybe you should think of Wendy before you sleep so you can have good dreams.”

Even though he still felt sick to his stomach, Dipper could not resist and excuse to fight with his sister, “I'm over her, stupid!” He shoved his sister out the doorway as she laughed. The taste of vinegar was gone, yet he still felt sick. Mabel shoved him back, and they ended up laughing and shoving each other regardless of the fact that it was six thirty in the morning.

“Really?” she prodded, her braces-free teeth bared in a grin, “Are you really over her?” When Dipper opened his mouth to retaliate, Mabel nearly slapped him as she placed her hands over his mouth, “Don't lie to me, brother, you suck at lying.”

“Eugh, Mabel, when did you last wash your hands?” Dipper changed the focus as he removed her hands from his mouth.

“Candy and I were making cotton candy yesterday, why on earth would I wash my hands after being responsible for granting clouds life?” She stared intently at her hands, “I must use these for good.” She clenched her hands into fists and looked sharply at him, “Dipper. You can be my nemesis. Wet-blanket man.”

Answering her question or even simply responding to her obvious provocation could result in bringing back up her initial question, and Dipper would rather avoid it, so he simply dramatically rolled his eyes, sighed heavily, and sauntered to his bed, dropping down on it like a dead weight. “Hey Mabel, do you think Grunkle Stan would let me go into town today?”

“No way, bro, he was so mad yesterday. You're stuck here with li'l ol' me,” she laughed as she sat beside him on the bed

The teen sat up and looked at her sister, raising his eyebrows, “Li'l ol' me? You sound like Gideon.”

She shuddered and winced, “Dipper I am so insulted I never want to see you again. How dare you? How dare?” The two stared at each other until Mabel made a face, then they cracked up laughing. Neither of them could take the other seriously at this point in time. Who could take a twin seriously?

“Pretty sure he's still in jail,” Dipper managed to say after the laughter had subsided.

“Eh,” Mabel shrugged, “He's like, what, thirteen now? I don't think they can keep kids in jail for a long time. Well, it is Oregon,” she shrugged again. “If I keep shrugging I'm going to lose my arms.”

Little by little the time went by. Dipper and Mabel simply chatted for a few minutes before Mabel went to take a shower, and Dipper reread through his texts. There was something about the strange number that was insanely off-putting to him. He wasn't quite sure if it was the fact that he still had absolutely no idea who was sending the texts, or the fact that the person seemed to know where he was at all times, or the fact that they kept trying to warn him about things that Dipper couldn't see. Who was the 'he' that was being constantly talked about? In the back of the teen's mind, he was fairly certain the texts had something to do with that guy he met yesterday. Bill. Whether he was the texter, or the one the texter was trying to warn him about, Dipper didn't know. Half his mind told him to abandon the phone and get a new one, this whole situation spells danger as clearly as a sign hanging over a cliff edge, yet the other half told him to embrace these weird happenings and get to the bottom of it. Dipper just wasn't sure which half to listen to first.

Later on when the shop was in full swing and all the employees were active, Dipper managed to slam the question into Wendy he had been practically dying to ask her the day before. He sat on the stool beside her and practically beamed at her, “Say, Wendy, did you remember a guy named Bill?”

“Forgetting a guy named Bill would be an impossible task, Dipper. It is a very uncommon name in this town. Why do you ask?” she spoke to him as she read her magazine, not paying too much attention to Dipper.

“Oh, uh, I was in town yesterday after, you know,” he tugged at the collar of his shirt for a moment, feeling stressed yet tired, “and this guy named Bill said he knew you.”

Coming out of the trace the magazine seemed to have on the adult female, she gave him a curious look, “Well, I knew of a guy named Bill. I didn't know him personally. He was always sorta, there, you know, but I never knew him up close. Too into that fancy-shmancy stuff for me.”

Unbelievably crushed by this, Dipper looked away and mumbled to himself, “So he was lying. I should have known.” The kid hopped off the stool and shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling incredibly betrayed. Of course the guy would have lied to him. He shouldn't have even been talking to strange men in the first place! Rule number one you learned as a child: stranger danger.

Sulking away, Dipper tried not to let it bother him, but he knew if he ever saw Bill again, if that even was his real name, he'd yell at him so much. So much. The thought of how much he'd yell was tiring him out, and Dipper had to lean against a wall to catch his breath. Wait, that wasn't right. Why on earth would he be feeling so tired out?

Oh dear. Was he coming down with a sickness? No, no no no, Dipper did not want to get sick in the first week at Gravity Falls. He had so much stuff to do, so many things to do, and only one summer to do it all in. Sickness was not an option whatsoever.

Now his little mind had shifted again, tossing the worries about sickness into the back of his mind and thinking about the lie Bill had told him. How stupid was he to believe that Bill was telling the truth? Unless Wendy was lying? But Wendy wouldn't lie to him, would she? Dipper was trying so hard not to jump to conclusions, but the fact was that someone was lying. Bill was the obvious candidate as the president of lies in this case, because Dipper barely knew him, but what if Wendy actually knew who Bill was and perhaps had some idea of what Bill had told him? What if Wendy really did like him, and was just playing it off as a lie so she wouldn't be outed? Dipper had no idea, and it was tearing his mind apart, but he did know one thing in the rubble of his mind. He had to talk to Bill again. Not just to yell at him either, but he needed to talk.

The teen stood up and rubbed his head. Perhaps he could sneak out of the shack? It's not like he actually does anything important around here. He used to be used as the occasional attraction, but now that he's older it would be a little more difficult. Mabel got cuter with age, Dipper did not. It wouldn't even be that hard either. There were no tourists around, and-

“Hey Dipper, get your butt out here.” His rampant train of thought crashed into the side of the tunnel as he was jolted back into the real world by his Grunkle's raspy, gravelly voice. “Clean up outside, some kid threw up.”

“Ew...” the teen muttered to himself but didn't feel like arguing too much today. His Grunkle, according to Mabel, was already mad at him. He had completely ditched them the last two days in a row practically without warning, so it was a little justified, but dang it. Dipper decided to just clean up the porch without argument. He was too tired.

Finishing the job outside, Dipper walked back inside, the beginning of a headache threatening to begin pounding inside his head. He clenched his eyes shut and pressed the palms of his hands over his eyes, rubbing a little bit. “Grunkle Stan, can I go lie down on my bed?”

“I don't think so, no-one shirks work around here.”

“Really? Fine then, I'm going to lay down on the couch. Call me if you need me,” he practically mumbled as he rubbed his eyes harder so that he saw little stars and triangles in his vision. For some reason that helped ease his headache a slight bit.

Sitting down on the couch, Dipper felt his phone vibrate. He lied down on his side and draped one arm over the edge, holding his phone. He turned it on, and lo and behold, the strange number was texting him. Once again. Woop-de-doo. Against his better judgement, the teen read the text. It read, “i warned you”. Again, no context to as what in the world this person was referring to.

The teen decided he didn't care that much for the consequences, again, and he responded to the text, typing out, “Warned me against what? You're so cryptic.”

There was a few minutes where Dipper had closed his eyes, and he was about to nod off when the phone buzzed again. Dipper opened his eyes about halfway and peered into the phone's bright light, where he read, “wrote me texts??? youre so nice to go against him like that”

Even though Dipper knew not to get sucked into this mess, he was just tired and wanted the person on the other end of his phone to shut the hell up. His eyes were nearly closed when he typed in return, “What in the actual hell are you even trying to say any more?”

X'ing out of the program on his phone, Dipper got the brilliant idea of turning his phone on silent. With a smug smile he set the phone on the floor. Now when it went off, Dipper wouldn't have to hear the buzz.

There was a few moments of silence before the phone buzzed.

XxXxX

Oh, what a beautiful morning! Oh, what a beautiful day! Except it was night, not day. That simply would not do, now would it? No, no, never in the world.

The street lights around the man flickered and glimmered as bugs flew heedlessly around, trying desperately to grasp the imitation sun, but there would be no reward. There wasn't even much light anyways, just the bright splotch of yellow on the concrete that faded swiftly out to slated grey. It was foggy tonight, vision was limited. Limited edition, one could say.

But not for this fellow, no, he could see just fine. Out of one eye, that is, but nevertheless he had exceptional vision. Of course, there was little need for such exceptional vision in the waking world, in the middle of a city where any cry could be heard, no matter how small. It was too conspicuous. Look down any street, you could see one of the homeless, or perhaps a back door alley open with a few humans smoking something that made the man simultaneously lose his appetite yet get insanely hungry. So open, so easy, yet so difficult.

That's why he preferred the forest. It was easy to get away with things there. Small, simple things the townsfolk would never approve of if they were hanging like a brightly coloured banner above the park. A flayed deer, perhaps the carcass of a rabbit swaying on a branch, or even the body of a child in a ditch, those were all things that could disappear in the forest. Decomposing, degrading, losing their life energy.

There was life energy connected to him, though. A steady stream into the palm of his hand, glowing ever so slightly blue if he focused hard enough. He drained the energy while the host was gone and replenished it when the host was near, if in case that host ever learned that Bill Cipher was the source of-

The internal, nearly external, monologue of the blond was cut short as his phone gave out a little jingle. He whipped it out of his pocket, already knowing who was on the other line. He couldn't believe her, texting at a time like this? Unsanitary, to say the least.

He opened the message just for the sake of seeing it with his own manufactured eye, reading “the point i am trying to make with these kryptograms is to help him how dare you solve them instead i am trying to go behind your back here”, followed as per usual by the correction, “*cryptograms”.

No use responding via text, she could hear him in her mind if he simply spoke, but due to her special predicament, she had to use a human tool to communicate. It made him grin 'till his face hurt. “But that's the fun in the game, isn't it? Get a little brownie points for getting on his good side, eh? Nudge nudge, wink wink, you know you're jealous you're not getting this starry action.”

The phone sang out to inform Bill he had another text. He laughed, it was impossible to take her seriously through this droll device. “sorry I forgot you were a total creep” she said.

“Ouch, you wound me,” he laughed out, the grin still splitting his face. Passerby people simply stared at the strange, if well dressed, man talking to himself under a street light, holding his old phone out in front of him as if he was in a play.

Another text, “i cannt see why you're doing this to him, of all people,” Bill just tapped his foot in anticipation. Ah, there it was, “*can't”.

“But see the bigger picture for me, girly.”

“spell it out for me”

Bill spun on his heel and began to walk, his shoulders high and his head back slightly, “I just want to see how malleable the human mind is before it realizes what's going on. You know what they say, when doing an experiment, you've gotta repeat to make sure there is no room for chance. And I do love repeating experiments, a couple thousand times at least. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

There was no response. She was gone for the time being. Probably off trying to warn the idiot boy, but he wouldn't listen. Bill would make sure of that. He opened his phone and looked at his phone number. Perfect.

XxXxX

Dipper had to be dragged up to his room by his sister. His headache was causing the room around him to begin to swirl. Sleep deprivation was getting to him, he assured himself. He had managed to fall asleep after the last buzz of his phone. He was not going to check that, there was some sort of demon magic going on to have him phone buzz even after he turned it off. Either that, or his phone was defective. Perhaps this mystery texter didn't even exist, and was just the phone being stupid. Okay, dumb thoughts, go to sleep Pines.

He fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. His dreams were grey, but instead of just blue, there were other colours infecting the landscape. Pastel pinks and yellow tinged the edges of the grey, but it seemed like the grey was making a very strong attempt to demolish all traces of the other colours. A war in his dreams over colours. Absolutely hilarious, really. Dipper didn't know where his feet were taking him, but he kept walking, looking around at the trees that seemed like they were made out of bubblegum. Over a log, under a branch, across a sputtering river, the forest seemed endless, until he came unto a clearing. He stepped forward, and reached out towards the centre of the clearing. His hand touched it, and it crumbled.

A journal made out of sugar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big notes section for you guys this run around compared to last chapter's.
> 
> 1) I am being a little too tough in my messages. I'll tone it down from now on. The last one I'm not going to change, but I will give you a hint for this chapter's secret message, perhaps two if no-one gets it. Read the first letter of each paragraph (it was gonna be lines but ao3 has an awful drafting system) until the first XxXxX. Follow from there. All the messages are in this chapter, don't worry about going back to previous chapters. Also, my messaging system via paragraphs is VERY limited, so think a little out of the box. If you don't get it, PM me on tumblr and I'll tell you so we don't spoil it for any readers. HA what readers? My tumblr is sugarfreefox, if y'all don't have that.
> 
> 2) This story is based off assumptions. Dipper assuming the texter is no-one significant. Dipper assuming Bill is telling the truth. Bill assuming Dipper will fall into his trap. Assume you're right, even if the answer seems a little off. Misspelled, perhaps?
> 
> 3) Holy shit I am sorry I am having such a tough time writing. I try to keep the characters in character, but also have the story go the way my plot is going. If I start getting too OOC please please PLEASE tell me and I will rework a few things, even rewriting chapters if need be! (this includes bad spelling!) I want this to be great. So great, people will read it. Yes that is my desire.


	4. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interactions of the weirdest kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not many secrets here, don't look too hard. There is one, however, easy to find. Another that is subtle, and relies on the last three chapters for influence.

The next morning was a haze, but at least Dipper's head was finally freed from that horrific headache he'd had the day prior. Now it was just a dull pressure that made him uncomfortable, but not immobile like he'd been the day before. The teen blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes roughly so he got stars in his vision before slapping on his hat and shrugging his jacket around his shoulders. Did he care for taking a shower or even changing his clothes? Not in the slightest.

Dipper grabbed the journal and a small notepad and shoved it into the inner pocket of his jacket. No vest today, he felt colder than usual. Regardless of the summer heat, Dipper felt chilly. He zipped it up and made his way downstairs.

Grunkle Stan was up and eating breakfast. It was then that Dipper realized he had no idea what time it was. With nearly closed eyes, he made his way into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of juice. There was no appetite. He sat down at the table and placed the cup in front of him, yawning in the process.

“Tired out from all that slackin' yesterday?” his grunkle teased.

Dipper just pointed at him, “You know it.”

As the teen took a drink of his juice, he heard the rustle of paper he could only assume was his grunkle turning the page of the newspaper, followed by that gravely voice, “I don't have anything planned today, you can do whatever you want, just so long as you don't go to prison. Jail is fine.”

Dipper couldn't suppress the grin that broke through the tiredness, “Good. There's something I need to do in town.”

“What is it?” the inquiry from his grunkle was unusual. The man didn't care much for his antics usually. There was no harm in telling him a little info though, if it meant the old man remained off his back.

“There's someone I gotta yell at.”

That earned Dipper a laugh from the older man, “Give him the left hook if you need to.”

The teen imitated the swing that he recalled his grunkle telling him about a long time ago, “Left hook!” He laughed and stood up, setting his half-drank cup of juice on the counter. “See ya later Grunkle Stan, tell Mabel I'll be back at a reasonable hour, I promise.”

There was a grunt in response as Dipper made his way out the door. The sun was in the sky, but there was still that lingering chill that reminded him that night was not too far gone. The dawning sky was a pale blue tinged with tangerine. Definitely after six, at the very least. He inhaled deeply and held his breath for a moment, letting it all out in an obnoxious sigh. Today was nice.

Walking to town took longer than it usually was. Dipper credited it to his being tired the night before. It was a quiet walk, filled with introspection and wild thoughts. He remembered his phone.

He'd left the phone at the shack. Oh well. Hopefully Mabel didn't hear it go off and snoop through his texts. She was like that sometimes, and even though he had made sure he put the phone on silent yesterday, it still made sound. He fully expected angry texts from his little mystery texter when he got home. The thought of that made him laugh.

It was getting hotter out by the time Dipper actually got into town. He unzipped his jacket, but kept it on, still feeling moderately cold. There were cold days in summer, right? Especially in Oregon. Oregon was one of the moodiest states. One day it went from rain, to hail, to snow, and ended with a bright and sunny day all in a three hour time span. He loved Oregon. The town was bright today, and people were out wearing their summer clothes. Dipper felt out of place with a jacket and shorts on. Oh well, who cared, right? Rebellious teen mode activate.

Now he was faced with the daunting task of why he had actually come here in the first place. Finding Bill. Where on earth would that guy be, anyways? Gravity Falls may be small compared to metropolitan areas, but Dipper knew he could easily miss Bill the entire day even if he searched every last shop. There were so many variables. So many! Like, was Bill even here, was he still in Gravity Falls for that sake, was he even downtown today, would Dipper even recognize him if he saw him? The teen held back a snarky laugh, of course he'd recognize that dapper-dressed d-bag. Forgetting a guy named Bill would be an impossible task, especially with the way he dressed. It was if he was a chauffeur or something, dressed to the nines in such an outfit.

Why on earth was he thinking so much about Bill's outfit anyways? The teen shook his head a little and looked around at the scenery. He could ask someone if they'd seen Bill, but then again, he'd rather not talk to the locals. It wasn't them he didn't want to talk to, it was just himself not wanting to go on a pointless chase and waste time when he could be doing this sort of tracking himself! Speaking of wasting time, all this inner thought nonsense was wasting the day away while he just stood here like an idiot. Dipper decided to head for the library. It was the first place he had seen the blond freak, maybe he'd be back there?

Dipper walked to the library, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked. Teen rebellion. That would impress Wendy, right? So long as she didn't know he was spending a free day going downtown to the library. He huffed up the steps, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. Why was he so tired doing that? Shouldn't he be feeling like this when he was his grunkle's age? This was absolute horsecrap. After getting the energy back to walk inside, he looked around for that dash of blond hair on a grey and black suit.

Nothing.

He sighed and went to sit down. Something about the library just got his happiness up. He stood up again after sitting for nearly a minute and walked over to the bookshelves stacked against the opposing wall. His favourite section: mystery. He didn't even notice his headache was gone when he pulled a couple books off the shelf and brought them to his table.

Dipper was halfway through the first book he had pulled out, and he was rewarded with someone violently pulling his chair back. Dipper barely held in a yip of surprise as he clenched the book closer to himself, pulling his knees up off the floor and tensing up completely.

“Look who it is, that little nerd who won't let the library be free of this plague called 'teenagers'.” That oddly high pitched, daunting voice. Dipper knew it. He knew the library would be the place.

“Bill.”

The man turned Dipper's chair to face him and put his hands on his hips, “It is summer, what are you doing here?”

“I am here because I wanted to find you,” Dipper didn't realize how weird that sounded until it was too late to take it back.

The blond man put one hand on his heart and the other was draped across his forehead, “Oh, my sweet summer child, you flatter me.”

A loud “Shh!” from a few tables away caused the two males to turn their attention. A lady, clearly in her young 20s, was glaring pins and needles at them.

Dipper turned his attention back to Bill, “Come with me outside so I can yell at you there.”

The man shrugged, “But I am here on business, I can't simply abandon it for petty arguments,” he grinned, “but I am curious as to your reasons for yelling. So fire away, little Pine Tree.”

After having silently put his books back, Dipper stalked outside, the blond following like a shadow. Once he was outside he whipped around and held one fist up, “How dare you!”

The man looked completely astonished. He raised his eyebrows high off his head and put three fingers over his mouth, “I know, it's evil, huh?” That creepily infectious laugh resonated from the blond.

“You're darn right it is!”

The man nearly bust a gut laughing after Dipper's statement. What in the world. Dipper glared intently at Bill as he waited for the immature guy to pull himself together, which took a not-so-surprisingly lengthy amount of time, “Sorry, it's hard to take you seriously when you look like that.”

The taunt from Bill went just as planned. The previous topic was completely lost from Dipper's mind as this turn of events dragged his train of thought onto new rails, “Wait, look like what?” he inquired.

“You don't see it? Well then. Never mind!”

“Tell me!” an aggravated Dipper demanded.

Bill wagged his finger at him, “I'd never.”

“Bill!”

Dipper's attempts at getting information out of the man were completely lost as the blond deteriorated into laughter again. As the boy began to stomp away down the stairs, he felt his energy begin to fade again, but he didn't care. He just assumed dealing with such a stubborn man-child was the cause of that.

“Pine Tree, wait a minute,” he was interrupted by that dumb laughing voice, “at least tell me why you wanted to yell at me in the first place.”

After the realization hit that there was, in fact, an actual reason Dipper was going through the hell that was dealing with Bill, he turned around and leaned against the railing that led up the steps to the library. “You lied to me about Wendy,” he hissed.

“Ha, so I did,” the man said with startling confidence.

Dipper crossed his arms over his chest, “I'm tempted to punch you.”

The man pressed a hand to his mouth, barely stifling the giggles that threatened to overflow, “With those noodle arms? Puh-leeze!”

The teen threw his arms in the air, “Unbelievable. How old even are you? Cause I think I'm the older one here.”

Bill smiled, “As if I'd ever tell you.”

Dipper glared.

“I'm 20.”

The teen rolled his eyes and turned his back to Bill, balling his hands into fists, “Why do I even bother?” he mused half about Bill, half about Wendy.

As the teen began to stomp away, he was stopped by a tight hand on his shoulder than spun him around. He was nearly face-to-face with the blond man now, and Dipper just stared for a brief moment before shoving him off. He was about to open his mouth to protest when Bill interrupted him with, “How about I make this up to you somehow? I sure do feel dreadful about lying to you earlier.” The sarcasm is strong with this one. “Okay, I don't feel bad whatsoever, but let me make it up somehow.”

Dipper shrugged, “I don't really care at this point, Bill.”

“Wonderful!” the man wrapped one arm around Dipper's shoulder and pulled him close so Dipper was pressed against his side, “To the convenience store we go.” He let go of the teen's shoulder when the teen forcibly shoved him away, placing the arm around his own back instead.

“Bill I don't-”

“Too bad,” the guy interrupted him again, “Let's go.” He grabbed Dipper's arm by his wrist and pulled him along. Dipper opened his mouth to object to this situation when Bill placed one finger over Dipper's lips, “Shhh accept my kindness for once in your life, Pine Tree.”

The teen just glared as he was pulled by Bill to a nearby convenience store.

Once inside, the man finally let go of Dipper's arm, and the boy rubbed the skin where the man's hand had clenched it tightly. “You probably gave me rug burn on my wrist, if that's even possible,” Dipper complained.

The man raised his eyebrows, “Want me to kiss it better?” His voice was taunting, definitely not sincere.

“Ew,” Dipper said with a small smile, “You're such a creep.”

“And you're the one who came looking for me.”

The boy crossed his arms over his chest, “Whatever. What can I get?”

Bill stalked down the aisle, his height clearing the top shelf. He looked back at Dipper with a smug smile and imitated his voice, “I don't really care at this point.”

With a huff, Dipper sauntered off towards the drink section. There was no way he was going to eat anything in front of this guy, he would probably choke to death. He chose instead to browse the drink section, settling on a little glass bottle with a bright blue drink inside. This drink was probably more sugar than soda. He couldn't resist. Mabel wasn't the only one with a sweet tooth, Dipper could just contain his more than she could. He grabbed the bottle and held it in one hand, reading the label. The first ingredient was cane sugar. Perfect.

“You like sugar?” Bill's voice rang out above Dipper's head, and he looked up to see the man grinning.

Dipper shrugged, “It's OK, I guess. Nothing too great.”

“You're not too cool for sugar, kid.”

The static expression Dipper had morphed into a grin, “This is the best drink. It's even bubblegum flavour.”

Bill snatched the bottle from Dipper and held it in the air, peering intensely into the glass's contents, “Then why is it blue?”

“Would you rather it be pink?”

The mention of the colour pink caused Bill's shoulders to set in a very tense way, and his jaw offset slightly, “Blue is so much better.”

Dipper reached up to get the bottle, but Bill held it out of his reach. “Bill?” Dipper questioned.

The man got a grin back on his face, and his shoulder's relaxed again, “Get your own, Pine Tree.”

Indignation flared in Dipper's stomach as he turned around, keeping his face towards Bill, opened the cooler door in a jerking motion, grabbed another soda with a tightly clenched fist, and slammed the door shut, “Hilarious.”

Bill simple smiled and walked towards the counter. He took Dipper's bottle from him long enough to pay for it at the counter, then the two drinks were put into a small black plastic bag, which Bill handed to Dipper. The boy held the bag with one hand and walked outside, followed by the taller man.

“Uh, thanks,” he half-muttered, swinging the bag in gentle circles subconsciously.

“No problem,” the man held out a hand, which Dipper stared at in confusion. “Hey kid,” Bill interjected, “Give me my drink.”

Dipper was jerked back into the waking world, “Oh, right!” He reached into the bag and pulled out one of the blue sugary excuses for a drink.

The man cracked open the bottle top and took a drink, nearly sputtering at the taste. Dipper cracked up at Bill's reaction, “What is this?!”

“I said it was more sugar than drink, Bill, jeez. Learn to listen,” he tapped the side of his head with his fingers, poking gentle fun at the blond. “Do you not want it?”

The man recapped the soda, “You can have it. It's not going to kill you, right? I wouldn't be surprised if you died from this much sugar.”

Dipper accepted the drink from Bill, opening it up and wiping his jacket sleeve over the mouth of the bottle furiously. Bill watched Dipper as he made sure any remainder of the blond was removed from the top of the bottle.

“Wow.”

“What?”

“And you said you were older than me, you can't even take a drink of the soda without wiping off the cap. I am hurt, very hurt,” the man clenched his chest with one hand, “You're so rude.”

Dipper felt a little bad at seeing the man's reaction, but when he saw the grin splitting the man's face, he felt enjoyment at the idea of spiting the man, “Good, I'm glad you're in pain. Besides, I don't want to take a drink of the soda after your mouth has been on it. That's, like, something you can only do with siblings, because of germs. Yeah.”

Bill raised one eyebrow, “If you say so, Pine Tree.”

Dipper nervously rubbed the back of his neck, “I, uh, I have to go home now, I promised my sister I'd get home after I yelled at the jerk I needed to yell at.”

The man nodded solemnly, “Sisters are not ones to trifle with.”

“Thanks, uh, again for the sodas, Bill.”

“So long as you're not as mad at me anymore, it's good.”

Dipper smiled, “You're not half bad. Not half good, but not bad.”

Bill grinned, “See you around soon, Pine Tree.” He turned away from Dipper and began to walk off.

“Oh, Bill?” Dipper called out.

The man turned on one heel, “Yes?”

“Why do you keep calling me Pine Tree?”

The man just smiled, “I'll tell you another time.” He simply turned back in the direction he had been going, and continued on his way.

The teen clenched the bag tightly in his hand and began the walk home, feeling full of energy. It was a much better feeling than earlier, with the absolute exhaustion he had been feeling. But now he was energetic and spry, and it wasn't even the soda that was doing it! He must just need to get out more, and not just to the library. Was it because he had been hanging out with someone? Someone besides his sister, or his crush? The feeling of having spent time with someone who didn't know everything about him was exhilarating, almost dangerous in a way. Bill was someone Wendy didn't know, Mabel didn't know, and hopefully no-one else at the shack knew. Bill had this air of mystery that reminded Dipper so much of his journal. He wanted to know why Bill refused to tell him about that little pet name today. He'd have to hang out with Bill again, and not just for the name.

He made it home in about half the time it took to walk to town. It didn't even feel like noon yet. Dipper stepped inside the shack, and was immediately greeted by his hyped-up sister.

“Dipper!” she cheered, pulling him into a hug, “I'm surprised you're back so early.”

He laughed, “Yeah, I yelled at the guy I needed to yell at, and decided to get back early. Y'know, at a reasonable hour.”

“I bet you handed his butt right to him, Bro Bro,” she grabbed her brother's arm and yanked him through the Shack to their shared room, “But we gotta talk.”

“Talk?” he inquired, “About what?”

Mabel held up a phone in her hand, which Dipper recognized immediately as his own, “I'll tell you when we're alone.”

She was being a little more cryptic than usual, but if she felt like this was something just the two of them should discuss, then there was no reason for Dipper to doubt her. She wasn't stupid.

When they were both in the room, Mabel peeked out the door and shut it, running swiftly over to her bed and hopping on it, “Dipper I'm sorry for going through your phone but it just kept ringing and ringing, I couldn't resist. My brother? Popular? Astounding.”

Dipper laughed nervously and sat beside her, “Yeah, I'm not too sure what's going on with the phone. Or who's even texting me. It's weird, Mabel.”

She opened the message centre on the phone, “Since you went to bed last night, I've heard this little piece of crap go off at least fifteen times.”

That was more than the teen boy had anticipated when he left early in the morning. “Fifteen?” he asked incredulously, “From who?”

“This number in here. I looked it up on your phone's internet and it leads nowhere. I even called it-”

“Mabel why would you call?! That could be dangerous!”

She raised an eyebrow, “Don't you want to know who answered?”

Dipper shut his mouth quickly. Of course he wanted to know who answered. “Tell me, Mabel, don't leave me hanging.”

She looked ghostly at this point, “I didn't get a name, or anything, it just sounded...weird, like when I had all that sugar those years ago. Wow! Expired goods are great. G-R-8.”

“Was there a voice?”

“I couldn't tell.”

Dipper was confused, “Was this all you needed to tell me?”

She shook her head, “Nope, that was just one part. I read through the texts, because I wanted to, and you should read them.” She handed the phone over to her brother.

He scrolled to where it left off last time and began to read the texts. Mabel was close, there were actually sixteen new messages:  
boy u r stupid aren't u  
even i know when to stop  
why r u doing this???  
arent you the smarte twin???  
really dipper get ur ass home  
EY KID GO HOME  
boy he is there r you crazy  
i dont think your there on acident  
leae  
*leave  
cant u here the phone???  
i dont think you brought the phone  
pleas tell me you brought the phone  
hes gonna kill you if i dont aftr this  
empires will fall if u dont gtf home  
Really, it's not surprising you don't listen to my nonsense.

Dipper reread the texts a few times over, practically imprinting the messages into his brain as much as he could. He glanced at his sister, who was staring at him intensely.

She inhaled short and sharp, “Again, sorry for invading your privacy, but this was just crazy.”

“No hard feelings,” he muttered, entranced by the messages.

“I, uh, noticed something,” her voice trailed off into uncertainty, “Usually I'm not the book-smart one in this situation, I'm better at the crazy things, and you've probably noticed this already, but the last text is different from the first ones. It has capitalization and punctuation, while the others don't.”

Dipper hadn't really noticed that before. He knew there was something off, but hearing Mabel say it affirmed his suspicions. “Hey, that's right, and that's been there before.” He scrolled up the message centre and read the prior texts, “It's always telling me to disregard or ignore the previous texts.”

“But it's from the same number,” his sister interjected.

“Mabel, what do you think this means?”

She rubbed her chin a little bit, “I think there's two people on that one phone number.”

“That's impossible, but we are in Gravity Falls...”

Mabel hopped off the bed, “Dipper, who do you think you should listen to? The bad-speller, or the interrupting-jerk?”

Dipper shrugged, “I'm not sure. I don't even know who this is, and you said you called and got something weird? What if it's some ghost, or vampire, or something trying to lure me into believing one of them? I don't think I should believe either is trying to help me.”

“Just be safe, Dipper,” she placed on hand on his shoulder and pat him, “Or else Wendy will be sad that the boy who has a crush on her is gone.” Mabel giggled and began to hop away, followed by an angry Dipper, when the phone went off.

The two of them froze in position, Mabel nearly falling over before her brother pulled her back onto her feet, and the two of them walked simultaneously back towards the phone. Dipper grabbed it and opened the message centre.

Dipper read the text and looked at Mabel.

“Spooky,” Mabel whispered, “Do you think we should get Wendy involved? And Soos? They were our mystery helpers before, back when we were searching for the author.”

Dipper shook his head a little, “No, I think we should just be the Mystery Twins this time.”

“Okay.” She smiled, “Well I'm gonna go stuff my face with microwaveable noodles. Come with me, Dipper.”

Her brother grinned and stuffed the phone in his pocket, “I bet I can eat more than you.”

“You're on.”

XxXxX

That night, the twins slept with full stomachs, nearly sickened by the amount of food they had eaten. Mabel had won the contest, eating a full three packs of microwaveable noodles, while Dipper had only managed to stomach two and a half. It may have been the food that caused the teen boy's unnerving dreams, but it could have been something else.

His dream was seen from his view, but everything around him was black. He couldn't see anything in front of him, not even his own hand right in front of his eyes. He looked around to find something to see, but he felt his head be forcefully moved in one direction. Something white was fading into view. It looked like words.

He smelled a thick scent of multiple types of spice. He peered forwards at the faded, blurry white words, and was able to make out a single phrase before they disappeared into the thick blackness.

“I am unheard, rather shy. I shine bright and white in the blackened sky, but have no shape to wonder why. What or who am I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaugh I am so sorry for taking so unbearably long to do anything on this! I've had most of it completed for well over a week, but I have no excuse as to why i haven't done anything. I'm making up for it by giving you 2x the length in this update, at least!
> 
> And the plot is going almost entirely different from my plans. Welp. Too bad.
> 
> (I did this quickly so if there is perchance some typos tell meeeeee)


	5. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manipulation is a fun tactic, if a bit corruptible. It can easily be used to, as you might put it, inspire someone to return your affections. After all, if you get them doubting themselves, they'll run to you for help, right?
> 
> And who is this pesky texter? Why can't they take a hint?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at like 2 a.m. after 22 goddamn days since the last update so if I end up hating it when i wake up tomorrow I will delete everything maybe
> 
> I live for Bill in suspenders, fight me on this.
> 
> (I don't remember what else I was going to write because my internet sucks and deleted my first draft of this so yeah suck it.)

“Wendy?”

“Yeah?”

“Does Dipper seem a little weird to you?”

“He's always weird, I don't really notice too much.”

“Yeah, but- but something's going on, I just know it.”

“I'll keep an eye out, alright Mabel?”

“Thanks.”

 

Dipper awoke with those dream words, that insane riddle practically imprinted into his brain. He immediately wrote it down in his journal, just in case he forgot. It was better to be safe than sorry. These dreams lately had been weirder than usual. He wished he could pass it off simply as Gravity Fall's crazy atmosphere, but he knew that was a little far fetched. No-one in the shack complained of weird dreams in grey, nor of riddles. Salt and vinegar, sugar and spice. Those were list last four prominent dream recollections. After all, taste and smell had a much larger impact on memory. What on earth did they mean?

There wasn't much time for him to bother with it, however. There was so much to be done today. The teen shoved his journal into his vest pocket (he was not feeling nearly lethargic enough to warrant the coat) and scurried downstairs, feeling more filled with energy than he had since he got here. With a thud he bounced off the last step.

“Good morning Gravity Falls,” he announced his presence with his cheery tone.

“Oh, hey Dipper,” Mabel's almost forlorn voice responded to his. Wendy looked mildly concerned.

Instantly he was at his twin's side, “Is something wrong?”

“No, no it's okay.”

That wasn't enough for the teen. “Well,” he started, “if you're sure?”

She smiled and hugged him tightly, “Of course I am. Oh, have you gotten any more texts?”

Dipper gave an exasperated wave and a loud “Shh!”, though that did nothing to diminish the interest the adult female beside the twins showed.

She leaned her head into one hand and smiled, “Texts huh? From a girl? You get that, Dip, get her good.”

The teen's face flushed pink, “What, no! It's just nonsense really. Nothing important-”

He had his mouth open to continue the argument when his sister slapped her hand over his mouth, “He's been getting weird texts from a number and we think it's something supernatural!” she wiggled her fingers and gave her voice a shake, adding a comically spooky effect.

Wendy laughed, “You're serious?”

“Yeah,” Dipper responded in an agitated tone before his more lighthearted twin could make the situation sound even more pathetic, “Some weirdo who cannot spell worth anything keeps telling me to beware this one guy, who I don't even know. It's not the messages the texts are trying to say that's weird, it's the fact that some of them are capitalized and properly punctuated while most aren't. Mabel and I believe that it's two people from the same phone, or two entities at least. Two sentient beings. Or maybe a lot of gnomes.”

“Sounds intense. Keep me updated, alright? I know I haven't given your number out to any of my friends, so it's none of them. I'm curious, though.” She didn't sound super interested, but Dipper figured it was just her 'too cool for y'all' attitude. What a great outlook.

Dipper sighed heavily in an exaggerated tone, “Oh well. Does Grunkle Stan have anything planned for us today?”

Mabel smiled, “Just the usual work. Be prepared to be stuffed into a fursuit, you furry.”

“Hey!” he protested loudly, “I'm not going to tolerate any more. I'm going to stand up for myself if he tries.”

Giggling in an unrestrained way, his sister wrapped one arm around his shoulder, “Keep telling yourself that, dip dop.”

Dipper shoved her off, but smiled in good humour, “I'm serious.”

“Hi serious,” she covered her mouth with her hands, “I'm Mabel!” The girl cracked up, practically snorting with laughter.

The teen boy raised his eyebrows and let out an awkward laugh, “Well okay.” He plopped himself on the stool beside the counter, watching his sister's amusement die down. She must be on some sort of sugar rush again. It was so early too, wasn't it? He might need to have an intervention for her. Imagine how that would go! He'd line up all her stuffed animals, pull out his notepad and hold the pencil in his hand, and give her the most solemn look he could possibly give before saying with a sad tone, “Mabel, we're worried about you.” Wendy and Soos and Grunkle Stan would be there, and they'd all go around talking about how her sugar rushes were getting out of hand. She'd probably just have a packet of sugar in her arms, and stick her paw into it, yanking out a handful of sugar and stuffing it into her mouth before cracking a joke. Yeah, she was great.

While he was busy daydreaming about a psychological evaluation for his twin, their grunkle had entered the room and was going on about some crazy scheme. Dipper came back into the world of the awakened when Stan snapped his fingers in front of Dipper's face a few times.

“Earth to Dipper, don't ignore me.”

“What?” Dipper blinked a few times, “I wasn't.”

“Anyways,” the man continued, “remember preteen wolf boy?”

He was met from an obnoxiously loud groan from Dipper and a cheer from Mabel.

“Time for teen wolf boy! Rakin' in the dough from those tourists, haha! Can't resist!”

Dipper groaned even louder and put his hands over his face, “That is so demeaning, I am too old for that.”

“No, Dipper, I am to old for that,” the older man responded, “you are going to get dressed in that old suit and go stand on that stage back there.”

The teen stood up and puffed out his tiny chest, “And what if I don't?”

Grunkle Stan glared and made an angry grunt. Dipper copied in response. They glared at each other for nearly ten seconds before Dipper finally looked away, “Fine.”

Ignoring the commotion behind him from the excited Pines and the Corduroy, Dipper shoved his hands into his pockets and walked into the show room, feeling dread as a large lump in his stomach, weighing him down and making it nearly painful to move. He felt exhausted.

His phone went off.

Dipper pulled it out of his pocket and looked at it. Oh, woop de doo, another text from that person. He went to turn off the phone, but the light stayed on. Great, it was frozen. Dipper rummaged around the room until he found a thin, sturdy screwdriver and popped the back panel of the phone off, where he then yanked the battery out. Dipper turned his phone back over, and the screen was still on.

Going on a hunch that felt more like an obligation than anything, he clicked the button to view the text. It worked. It read, “I don't think you should do what you're about to do.”

What he was about to do? Was that referencing the wolf costume? Or the thoughts running through his head?

Another text. His hand felt guided as he read, his mind noting that these texts were proper, but at the same time he felt blurred, fuzzy almost.

“Let them take care of the show.”

Dipper dropped the phone and pressed one hand to his forehead, feeling an intense jab of pain rake its way through his prefrontal cortex. He clenched his eyes closed while wave after wave of pain flooded his head, before it faded into a dull irritation settling right at the bottom. He opened his eyes and noticed the phone had finally turned off.

He wasn't going to turn it back on.

Hearing more commotion outside, Dipper realized he was running out of time, and he wasn't about to make Grunkle Stan angrier. There was already an ache in his head, he didn't need that accentuated.

Dipper just sat on a stool on the stage, wearing the dehumanizing outfit, where he just crossed his arms, and bore through the tourists.

XxXxX

It was a few hours later when Dipper finally had time to himself, which he spent up in his room. A little after noon, but not quite far enough to call it evening. He guessed around three o'clock, but that could be pushing it a little far. He had the phone in his hand, with the battery back inside and the back cover on. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. He was going to respond to the texts. He wanted straight answers about why he was getting these texts, how they worked even when his phone had literally no power source, and who exactly was behind the texts. With a deep breath, he turned the phone back on.

There was one message. Dipper read, “Oh you sad excuse of a child.”

He responded with, “Are you calling me pathetic?”

“Very,” the phone responded almost immediately.

Dipper texted back, “Who are you, thinking you have that right?”

“Excuse me, princess, I thought you'd be able to handle a petty insult.”

He was feeling irritated at this point,“It's not the insult that's getting to me, it's this whole scenario. Who are you? What do you want?”

“You don't understand at all?”

“What?” What on Earth.

“Or do you not remember?”

A chill went up his spine, “Remember what?”

“Uh huh, I get it now. Oh man this is great!”

Dipper pounded his phone's keys in response, “Get what? Why are you so vague? Why can't I get a straight response!”

But there were no more texts.

Dipper chucked his phone at the wall, letting out an anguished yell. He then immediately regretted it and pressed his hands to his temples. The pounding in his head continued. Dipper lied down on his bed and closed his eyes. As tired as he was, though, he simply could not sleep. He sat up and crossed his arms over his chest, his hands gripping his upper arms tightly. He sat in that position for what felt like an eternity before his sister burst into the room.

“Downtown, Dippingsauce, let's go, Grunkle Stan's waiting!” she exclaimed.

“What?”

“He said we did a good job so he's taking us downtown and there's this new fabric I really wanna buy so get off your booty and let's go,” she grabbed his left arm and pulled him towards the door.

He laughed a little bit, “Alright, alright, I'm coming, just don't tear my arm off, alright?”

“If I did, you'd be all right,” she grinned.

“I swear to god-”

She yanked him downstairs, “Swearing is bad, Dipper, you should know this.”

He rolled his eyes and followed her outside and into the Stanleymobile.

The car ride was short, Dipper staring out the window at the passing trees he had grown to recognize in a flash and Mabel rambling about how many sweaters she was going to make with the new fabric. Apparently it was so soft, it was illegal in Texas. By the time they had made it downtown and parked on the street, Dipper was nearly asleep.

He woke to the sounds of the car doors opening and closing. “Hey,” he muttered, “wait for me.”

Getting out of the car, he noticed Mabel and Stan were so entrenched in conversation, they must not have heard him. He slammed the door shut and huffed, beginning to muster up the effort to walk after them.

The air felt heavy as Dipper walked, almost as if it was dragging him down. He had nearly lost sight of them already. With a heavy heart he realized they had only invited him so he wouldn't be upset at being left home alone. This hurt worse. He turned around and walked back to the car, sitting on the curb in front of the car, his knees pulled up to his chest, and his hands occupied by making tiny roadside rocks roll around the ground.

“You look bored.”

Dipper's whole body jerked as he slammed a hand over his heart, whipping around to face the origin of the voice.

Bill.

Excitement welled in his chest, but he passed it off as simply adrenaline running through due to the start. “Holy crap, you scared me!”

The man huffed and sat down beside the teen, “It was amusing.” He laughed that same weirdly high pitched laugh. Dipper squinted at him- was he wearing suspenders? Oh my god, he was. What a nerd.

“My pain amuses you?”

“Yes.”

“Rude,” Dipper mocked sincerity.

The man crossed one leg over the other, “So you got left behind or something? Not surprising to me.”

“Yeah,” the teen begrudgingly agreed and turned his head back towards the road, putting his jaw on his knees and looking at the pavement as he nudged another tiny pebble around, “But I'm used to it, really.”

Bill tilted his head a little, “Don't you care about being left behind? It'd make me want to tear someone's teeth out or something.”

Dipper sighed, “Not much at this point. And that's a very violent response, Bill, you might want to calm yourself.”

He felt a warm, gentle pressure on his back- the touch of comfort from the man beside him. “I wouldn't leave you behind,” the older man said with a sympathetic tone of voice. This felt wrong, but at the same time it was a comfort that reminded Dipper of his sister. It was comfort, and he was in dire need.

Bill kept his hand on Dipper's back until the teen turned his whole body to face Bill, causing the man's hand to trace over Dipper's back and across his shoulder, until he lost contact and pulled the extruding arm back to his figure.

“Bill, you said if we met again, you'd tell me why you call me Pine Tree.”

“Did I?” Bill tilted his head nearly horizontally and put one finger on his chin, “I recall something on similar terms, but I believe I said 'another time', not next time.”

Dipper crossed his arms, “Well I'm desperate.”

Bill returned his head to standard societal norms in terms of angle and turned his body to face Dipper. He sat crosslegged, his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers steepled together, “Oh I can tell, Pine Tree.”

“Hey!” the boy protested, his face beginning to get a red overtone.

“You practically wear your curiosity out like clothing on a clothing line. Or where else you people put your clothing to dry.”

“In the dryer, Bill. In the dryer.”

The man looked astonished, but the slight grin made Dipper doubt the genuineness of that expression, “Those exist?”

The teen laughed, “You're like twenty, remember?”

Bill grabbed Dipper's hand and stood up, pulling the teen up with him. “Well,” he began, “how about you and I go get something to eat, and maybe I'll tell you why I call you Pine Tree. Is that a plan, kid?”

Getting food from a strange man was not high on Dipper's to-do list, but curiosity killed the cat, and satisfaction brought it back. That was his new life motto, he decided. Twice in one day he had thought of it. So philosophical. He'd accept Bill's offer, but only because he was, in fact, very desperate to know Bill's rationale for calling him a specific type of tree.

Sooner than he thought, the man was pulling him by his wrist through the town. Dipper looked around in case he saw one of his family members, “Oh Bill?”

“Yes, Pine Tree?”

“Remember I have family that will be waiting for me.”

“Will they?”

Dipper let himself be pulled as he pondered that question. Of course they'd wait for him! They were his family. Family wouldn't let him be out alone. They'd probably get concerned he had gotten kidnapped or something. Wouldn't they?

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he looked around the store they were in. It was definitely a restaurant, but it wasn't too formal, yet not too casual. Him in his vest and shorts were acceptable, and Bill didn't look too out of place with his absurd yellow suspenders on the black dress shirt. Of course, he was always out of place, so there was nothing new in that aspect.

It didn't take very long for them to be seated, and once the waiter had left to tend to other tables, leaving a menu with Dipper and Bill, the teen peered over the table at the man, “Tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Bill feigned ignorance.

“Why you call me Pine Tree. I mean, you could easily call me just Tree, or any other tree like Oak Tree, so why that specific brand- I mean, type!” Dipper put a hand over his mouth and looked at the table, mumbling something that resembled “I'm smart I swear, I'm just tired.”

“Brand of tree!” Bill wheezed and laughed silently, his hands covering his eye. He nearly gasped for breath after a short span of time and managed to practically squeak out, “Oh that is hilarious.” He giggled as he wiped a tear off his face, “Oh Pine Tree you are such an idiot.”

“Again, rude.”

Bill just sighed in contentment and opened the menu, “Who cares? Anyways, get whatever you like.”

“You're avoiding the initial question,” Dipper prodded, keeping the menu flat on the table.

“There's chicken and- ooh look they have jalapeno poppers,” the man was engulfed in the food options.

Dipper just sighed and rested his head in his hand, deciding to just wait until the man had decided what he was going to get. The more Dipper thought about it, the weirder this situation got. He was only here to figure out the thing that had been bugging him all night. That was it, nothing more.

“Pine Tree,” the man practically sang to get his attention, “what do you want?”

The teen boy decided it was his turn to irritate the older man. He faked a very forlorn look, “Just a glass of water.”

“That's all? And waste my hospitality?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you'd like a free, paid for meal and wonderful company,” Bill retorted with a slightly bitter tone, neatly folding the menu while he responded.

Guilt began to seep into Dipper's chest. “Well,” he stuttered, “I mean, yeah that's nice and all, but-”

“But you don't think you're worth it?”

The teen just looked at him with a defeated look in his eyes.

“I think you're worth it,” the man reached over the table and lightly brushed a bit of hair out of Dipper's face, “Let me be nice. Here, if you order something edible, not drinkable, I'll tell you why I call you Pine Tree.”

“You said you'd tell me if I just came with you.”

The man smiled and withdrew his hand, “Plans change. Now order. Or I'll order for you.”

Dipper gave Bill a tight-lipped smile and sharply jerked open the menu. He scanned it for a total of two seconds before shutting it and setting it roughly on the tabletop.

“Fries.”

The man raised his eyebrows, “That all?”

“It's edible, and it's cheap, so yes.”

“Curly fries or steak fries?”

“Curly.”

The man grinned, “Well thank you for finally cooperating. And let me just say, curly fries are the best kind. The way they can be raw potatoes and curl without breaking? Truly a wonder of the world.”

The two sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes before the waiter came back and broke the tension long enough for an order to be placed, and once he was gone the two went back to having a wall of tension between them. Bill's was a more bitter type, while Dipper's was plagued with guilt. The teen crossed his arms over his chest, tempted to ask Bill yet again to tell him the thing he was absolutely dying to hear, but he didn't want to piss off the older man any more than he already did.

Finally, as Dipper was feeling so out of his skin he thought he might just pretend to go to the bathroom and actually leave, Bill opened his mouth and said the words Dipper was dying to hear, “I call you Pine Tree because of that hat you wear. See, it's got the generic image of what a pine tree is perceived to be in this backwards state, and you're always wearing the hat, so I call you Pine Tree.”

Dipper gave Bill a suspicious look with furrowed eyebrows, “You've seen me like three times, how would you know I wear the hat a lot?”

Bill just smiled and turned his head to the side, “You just told me. Oh look, here comes our food.”

The boy decided to let the last question go for now as he stared at the heaping plate of curly fries in front of him. “I'm so small, how can all this fit inside me?”

Bill choked and Dipper gave him a confused glance,. He justified it immediately after with, “I drank my water wrong.”

Dipper just rolled his eyes and began to eat his food.

XxXxX

They consumed their food quickly, due to Dipper's constant reminders that his family would be waiting for him. Bill made attempts to slow him down, but that was just one thing the teenager would not budge on. When they exited the building, it had gotten considerably colder outside, and Dipper shuddered. They began to walk back to the place where Grunkle Stan had his car parked, but the two of them couldn't even make much small talk during the walk.

When they were in visible distance, Dipper stopped walking and turned to Bill, “Hey, Bill?”

“What do you want, kid?”

“Thank you.”

The man smiled, “About time I got some appreciation. I was beginning to think you were just a stubborn little brat.”

“Don't patronize me,” Dipper's voice was rather cold. Colder than he had intended, but he just decided to go with it.

“Oh, Pine Tree?”

“What.”

“Remember that cryptogram the, I believe, second time we met? Or perhaps it was the first? I don't know, who cares, really?”

Dipper tapped his foot impatiently, “Get on with it.”

“Did you solve it?”

Dipper shook his head, and the man grinned.

He looked so smug, “Want me to help you solve it?”

Dipper shrugged, “I'll think about it, but no promises.”

The man held his hands up in feigned defense, “Well, alrighty then. Is your family here yet?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to wait with you?”

Dipper hesitated for a moment, before shaking his head a little, “It would be weird, Bill.”

“I'm a-”

“-weird person, I know,” Dipper interrupted. “Thanks again,” he said before turning and walking towards the car, sitting back in his old position, messing with what looked like the same rocks he was messing with before. Who knew if these were the same rocks? Nobody knew.

Eventually Grunkle Stan and Mabel came back, saying they had been looking for Dipper. The boy felt yet more guilt pile onto his already heavy heart, and he apologized profusely. Mabel accepted the apology, but it looked like it would be a small while before Grunkle Stan would be okay with it.

Dipper couldn't sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, my writing style is dialogue-heavy, as you can see. I try my best to make it apparent who's talking, but if there's any confusion, please tell me!
> 
> A few things should be clarified at this point.  
> 1\. Bill is an asshole. This topic is closed, no further debate.  
> 2\. Dipper is being influenced by none other than the aforementioned asshole. How he's being influenced? Take a wild guess.  
> 3\. Dipper's influenced state brings a derivative of desperation for companionship. He's being manipulated into believing that no-one cares about him except our wonderful blondie. Desperate times call for desperate measures, as the old saying goes.
> 
> If you want a little insight, listen to I Want You by Summer Camp, and Time Is Running Out by Muse. Those songs contain some inspiration for me, and you might learn a little about what Bill's behaviour is vaguely modeled off of.
> 
> Again, if there are typos, I'd appreciate a heads-up.


	6. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day with Mabel leads to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find the secret. Remember past chapters.

“High maintenance is what he is. I mean, he made such a big deal over dinner, it was horrible. Made me tempted to just up and leave. Haha! But I love it! So dramatic, it's perfect. Soften those edges a bit, wear down that pesky problematic self esteem, and it'll be a piece of cake! Speaking of pieces of cake, that cryptogram you left the kid was so easy I'm beginning to believe that you're not even trying.”

“Oh hush, you weird-ass motherfucker. Or, child fucker in this case. Seriously, Bill, what the hell.”

“Hello? You're talking to a demon, fellow demon. If I listened to the laws of humans I wouldn't be a demon. Seriously, you need to reread the handbook or something. I read the handbook a while back, and turned it into a book of hands. Did you know Greek hands and American hands are-”

“Bill, just stop trying to justify your creepy cravings, and going off topic so often. Anyways, I made the cryptogram easy because, well, he already can't solve it, so making it harder would be too difficult for his tiny mind. Plus I want him to solve it on his own, which will make him listen to my stupid phone messages about what an issue you are.”

“Making it harder would made him run to me for help, regardless of the underlying message that I am out to get him. It would be fun if he figured it out, adds that spice of danger! Ooh what a good spice that is. And why can't you be a good sibling and help me get some action?”

“You make me shudder sometimes. You know what? For that, I'm going to make the messages super easy. And speaking of messages, stop hijacking my number! It's so irritating. Get your own damn number.”

“But what is the fun in that if I can't mess with the kid's head a little? This one number thing is messing him up so bad, he threw the phone at the wall. The wall! He's going crazy and this mental degradation makes the energy siphoning and replacing easier. It's like, a turkey baster.”

“You have no heart.”

“But that makes me great. I'm great, aren't I? Yes I am.”

“Goodbye, Bill. Have fun ruining that kid's life.”

“Oh I will. Oh hey, one last thing.”

“What?”

“Have you ever used silly straws? They're just so sill- hello?”

XxXxX

It was around three in the morning when Dipper trudged downstairs, making a slight attempt to be quiet but not caring too much. His grunkle was asleep in that big chair in front of the TV, but Dipper didn't care too much about possibly waking him up. The teen wanted caffeine, and lots of it. There was an exhaustion weighing over his shoulders he couldn't quite comprehend. It was dragging him down, making him feel like he was going to pass out any moment, but at the same time he couldn't sleep. He rummaged through the fridge, managing to scrounge up a soda that was most likely left there from Soos. Soos would have to suck it up and take one for the team this time. This was Dipper's soda now.

The teen cracked it quickly, relishing in the sharp sound of compressed air exiting the aluminum canister. The old man in the chair made a snuffling sound eerily reminiscent of Waddles, and Dipper held back a snicker. He held the soda in his hand and made his way back upstairs, taking sips along the way.

When he got back into his room, he noticed that the light was on, and his sister was on his bed.

“Dipper we need to talk.”

He stood in the doorway, soda clutched tightly in his hand. “Uh, Mabel, it's like two in the morning, you should be asleep.”

“And you shouldn't be?” Her accusative voice stung a little.

He shrugged and sat on the bed beside her, setting the soda down on the bedside table. “Why are you up, anyways?” he dared to ask.

“I had to pee and I heard you open that soda downstairs so I decided to wait up for you. I still have to pee so you'd better tell me what's going on and fast, or your bed gets wet, and I will be able to talk my way out of it.”

“Whoa, no need to pull out the big guns, I'll tell you whatever it is you're asking.”

She crossed her arms and huffed, not meeting his gaze, “There's something going on with you. It reminds me of Robbie, you know, back when he and Wendy were broken up. That sadness. You know I like making people happy, and I know you're not happy. So tell me why, so I can go do something drastic and make you happy.”

The teen put his hand on the back of his neck, “It's weird.”

“Gravity Falls is weird and we still come back to it every year. Tell me your problems, child.”

He sighed, “I feel drained, like there's no point in doing anything, but then I also feel too awake to even go to sleep. It's like I have no energy, no effort.” He leaned to the side and put his head on his still taller sister's shoulder.

Mabel pulled her brother into a tight hug in response, “So do you need, like, sleeping pills or something?”

He bit his lip, “I need energy.”

“If you sleep you'll have energy. Sleeping pills it is. I'll talk to Grunkle Stan tomor-”

“Please don't, Mabel. Anyone else would work. Anyone. Soos, Wendy, just not Stan.”

She raised her eyebrows, “Okay, Bro Bro. I won't ask why, but okay.”

He smiled and sat back up straight, “Thanks.”

She patted his back, “Well I gotta pee now. Goodnight, Dipper. Try to sleep, or else you know we'll get a 'bag check' joke from Grunkle Stan.”

He laughed, “Alright. Goodnight Mabel.”

After she left the room, the teen didn't move. It felt like too much effort to even lie down. He just turned his head towards the pillow and stared for a few minutes. He knew if Mabel came back and he was still sitting up, she'd forcibly tuck him into bed, and that was always a painful experience. Eventually he built up the effort it took to flop over onto his side, of course that was propelled by him hearing his sister's footsteps near the door. Dipper was on his side, facing the wall, with his eyes forcibly closed. He mentally tracked his sister's position in his head, and when he heard a shuffle, he opened his eyes, still not facing her. It was too hard to sleep.

The hours passed, and his mind wandered the entire time. Staying on a single topic for too long made his head hurt. He just wished he could sleep. As the time passed, he closed his eyes, trying to keep the headache from overtaking his mind like it had a few days prior. Was it a few days? Or just a single day? He was completely unsure at this point. Eventually, his thoughts stopped, and he was aware that he was finally drifting off. It was that weird awareness, where you're like “hey I'm falling asleep” but at the same time you can't move. It's one of the best feelings, if a bit terrifying.

Dipper dreamt that he was falling, falling through the clouds with an expansive forest beneath him. The trees were hued blue, and the trunks were a silvery grey colour, as if soaked in starlight. The clouds were cold, and the water began to soak his clothes the more he pummeled through. Fear finally kicked in and he felt his heart seize, his chest compressing and his mind racing. Pound, pound, pounding harder in his chest, it felt like it was going to burst! He saw the grey ground racing up to meet him, and he extended his arms outwards to prevent himself from falling. Dipper made an attempt to scream, but there was no air in his lungs. He just fell and fell and fell.

He felt the pain as he hit the ground chest first.

The teen woke up with a bodily jerk, his eyes snapping open and his whole body letting out one massive twitch. He sat up in bed, immediately regretting that decision. His chest hurt, and if his arms could scream he'd be deafened. They felt broken. He nearly had to gasp for breath, clasping one shaking hand over his chest. What a vivid nightmare.

He quickly began thinking of every detail, and he ignored the pain in his arms as he pulled his journal into his lap. The faint outside light was enough for him, he didn't need to worry about risking waking his sister for this. The pen in his hand scribbled messily in bullet points about facts from the dream. The colour of the trees, the feeling of water soaking into his shirt from the clouds, the greyish tone of the bark sparkling like one of Mabel's weird sweaters. The more he racked his brain for details, the less he found, and soon enough he could only remember the gist of the dream. And the fact that for the first time, he hit the ground.

His breath hitched in his chest when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mabel sitting awake. “Dipper?” she questioned, her voice almost scared, “I had a crazy dream.”

With an awkward laugh he set the journal to the side, “Did it involve falling and hitting the ground?”

She peered curiously at him, “Did you have the same one?”

“Twin link, dude, I'm not kidding. We could be serious psychics.”

The teen girl let out a small laugh, which quickly subsided into nervousness. She took a sharp breath, and Dipper noticed her chest must be hurting too, “I've never hit the ground in a dream before.”

“Did you jerk awake?”

“Yeah, and it was like that one volleyball dream I had,” she laughed a little more, her mouth twisting in a small smile, “I actually hit the wall. That was funny. Balled my fists and WHAM!”

He smiled in response, “Yeah, you're ridiculous. Mom was so concerned if you hit your head.”

“Haha yeah.”

The two sat in silence for a few seconds before Mabel took another audible breath, “Does your chest hurt?”

“Yeah, your arms?”

“Yeah.”

The two sat in silence again, neither able to contribute anything useful to the conversation. Mabel swung her legs off the side of the bed, scuffing the ground in the process, before she stood up. “Hey, Dipper? Want to go into town?”

He blinked, “Again? We just went yesterday.”

“Yes,” she started, grabbing his hand and pulling him up, “but I noticed I completely forgot about you. So I want to do something, just you and me, alright?”

The teen boy smiled, “Alright, sounds like a plan. Is Grunkle Stan okay with it?”

“Yeah, I talked with him last night after you went to bed. He felt kinda bad about it too, so he says he'll give us the day off. Wow, Dipper, I can't remember a year where we've had so much free time.”

Dipper shrugged, “Well, it is summer. If we worked the entire time, we wouldn't want to come back.”

XxXxX

The two teenagers made it into town relatively quickly, having walked the path quicker than intended. Dipper felt the tired weight on his shoulders begin to lift, and with that the pain in his chest eased up, along with his spirits. Mabel dragged him to a cafe, where they sat outside at a table underneath a startling red umbrella. Mabel ordered a smoothie, and Dipper ordered a cream soda. The two teens were dressed similarly to their usual outfits, Mabel in a big grey-striped sweater and pale blue jeans with pink converse, and with her poofy hair in a loose ponytail thrown over her right shoulder. Dipper in a navy sweatshirt with an orange shirt underneath, decked in denim jeans that were scuffed from use and steel-toed boots protecting his feet and, of course, his beat up Gravity Falls blue and white cap.

“So Dip Dop, tell me why you've taken such an interest in the town. Usually it's the woods that interest you.”

Dipper looked down at the table and laughed nervously, “Ah, well, I'm not sure.”

She pressed her cheek against the table so she could still see Dipper's face, “Bro Bro you are the least convincing person ever. You can't hide this from me forever, you know.”

The boy rubbed a hand on the back of his head, “I can sure as hell try.”

Mabel's jaw dropped through a smile, “Dipper Pines you just swore.”

“Mabel, hell is not a swear word. I'm fairly certain I've said it in front of you before, too.”

She sat up straight and laughed, “Welp, too bad because I'm going to...tell Grunkle Stan you swore.”

Dipper raised an eyebrow and grinned, “Remind me again how old you are?”

“Five years old, going on six.”

The two of them giggled for a bit, enjoying each others' company. The drinks finally arrived, and while Mabel occupied herself with getting sprinkles on her straw, Dipper just sipped the tip of his soda.

The teen boy raised his eyes over his bent sister's head, and noticed a familiar splotch of blonde hair on a black and gold outfit. He choked on his soda.

“Dipper, are you alright?” His sister reached across the table, placing her hand on his shoulder.

He grimaced as he cleared his throat, “Yeah, just was too distracted for my own good.”

Mabel chatted in a mock chastising way, and Dipper peeked over her head again. Yep, that definitely was Bill. What the hell was he doing here? Dipper stared at the man until he turned his blond head towards the teen, to which Dipper quickly averted his gaze and lowered his head a little, pretending to take interest in whatever Mabel was spouting about. When he risked glancing back in Bill's direction, the man had the single most smug grin Dipper had ever seen. It was like Bill had just convinced a clerk to give him a discount for being blond, that smugness should be illegal. It was borderline goofy. Dipper opened his mouth to call Bill over when the man brought a finger to his lips in a 'shoosh' signal, then he turned back to his own table.

“Dippingsauce are you conked out of your gourd?”

“Yes, I am, thank you for noticing. I took a leave of absence, you know, put in my notice a few days ago.”

She rolled her eyes, “You and your comebacks.”

“Yours aren't half bad. The one about your age was great.”

“Whatewer,” she slurred, her mouth full of smoothie. “Mm, Dipper,” she swallowed it and shuddered at the cold, “you have got to try one of these, oh my goodness. Here, I'll give you a spoonful.”

Dipper squinted, “But Mabel, you have a straw.”

Yet there it was, in all its glory, a spoon on the table.

“If you got that off the floor, I am taking you to the hospital.”

“Puh-leez, I'm not that dumb. It was in my pocket.”

“Why? You don't even have pockets.”

She raised one fine eyebrow, “Every girl has pockets, Dipper. And why not?”

That was a question he simply could not answer. Mabel solved the silence by stuffing a spoonful into Dipper's mouth, to which he made a protest before giving in to his more eccentric sister.

The two simply chatted for a while, Dipper finishing his soda before Mabel managed to suck down that chocolate smoothie. Her straw was clogged multiple times by what was determined to be chocolate powder. This caused the girl to vow to create her own smoothies for the sole purpose of having an excess amount of chocolate powder.

Eventually she stood up, “Hey Dipper?” she asked.

“Hmm?” He looked at her in response.

“I'll be right back, don't you ditch me.”

“Okay.”

The teen girl went inside the shop. She was probably buying another smoothie, going in there for the sole purpose of making sure they put an exceptional amount of chocolate powder in the smoothie. Dipper looked down at the plastic table's surface, scratched by who knows how many months or years of use. Someone had even carved in a very tiny, but prominent, “yo”.

He heard the rustle of clothes and looked back up, opening his mouth to say Mabel when he was met by someone who most definitely was not Mabel.

“Pine Tree!”

Dipper clasped a hand over his heart, “Oh my god, you're gonna kill me with these sneak-ups. Jesus Christ on a sandwich,” he put his head in his hands, “What do you want?”

“I couldn't help but notice you eye-balling me over there.”

“And you shushing me? Why?”

“Because,” he leaned in close, putting his hand on the back of Dipper's head to pull him in close too, to where he whispered in his aggravating voice, “if someone, say, your sister, knew we were friends, she would be upset, right? Because of the age difference, that's usually it. But we are friends, right?”

Dipper grumbled back, “In a loose sense of the term, yes.”

“And you do want to stay friends?”

At this Dipper took a moment to think. He thought first about solving that pesky cryptogram, then he thought of the fact that he felt ten times better when he was out with Bill than he was at home. Those thoughts rushed through his mind in less than a second, to which he nodded, “Of course.”

“Then don't say anything about me. It'll be our little secret, alright?”

Dipper nodded again.

The man let go of Dipper's hair, his hand lingering for a split second before darting back to his side, “Well, your sister will be back soon.”

“How do you know she's my sister, though?”

“Pine Tree, you two are twins, it's obvious. Think and speak from your head, not your ass, for once.” The man smiled and stood up. “Since you're busy today, let's meet up tomorrow. I'll help you with that cryptic little message.”

Dipper nodded again, “Yeah, sure, I'll be here, okay?”

Bill grinned, turned on his heels, and left the cafe.

It was almost exactly three seconds after when Mabel walked out of the cafe, a mildly confused expression on her face, “Dipper, who was that?”

“Oh, uh-” he thought of an excuse on the spot, the first thing in his mind, “a tourist, wanting directions.” The man was dressed crazily enough, that excuse might just work.

Mabel just shrugged and sat down across from Dipper again.

The two chatted for another hour, then they paid for their goods and left the cafe.

XxXxX

It was late at night when Dipper felt his phone buzz. He groaned loudly and begrudgingly pulled the damned thing out of his pocket, jutting his jaw out slightly in a vague pout as he opened the message centre and read the first text. It read, “i think it's 2 late”

Dipper sighed, deciding to humour this jerk with a response, “What is too late?”

“am I uncleer???”

He stifled a smile at the absolute irony of this entity's texting style. “Well when you text like that, yeah, you are *unclear,” he responded, feeling triumphant.

“sorry”

Dipper rolled his eyes and put the phone on his bed. He turned to get off the bed and go downstairs when the dreaded thing vibrated to high heaven.

“for waht its worth, i am sorry for textin u so much b4” followed abruptly by a “*what”

Clearly he wasn't meant to get away this easily. Dipper picked up the phone and texted back a reponse as he walked down the stairs, ending up sending, “I don't forgive you.”

“he'll not forgive that easy.”

The teen groaned and set the phone on the counter roughly enough for his sister to turn her head away from her pig and look at him in confusion. Dipper angrily snatched up the phone and hammered a response, “I don't have time for your vague nonsense, you son of a beachball.”

“do u even know who im talkin bout???”

“Hell no,” he responded, sending a second text with, “You keep telling me these things but you never actually say who he is! It's pissing me off because it seems like you're just messing with me and honestly I am tired of it!”

“to be fare, u never asked”

Dipper had had enough. He typed back, in all caps, “FUCK YOU.” Rage burning in his head, causing a fog, he tore his hat off his head and slammed it down onto the table.

“you take care of yourself, okay???” the little light on his phone popped up, with this message displaying across the screen.

The teen was breathing heavier than usual, and he whipped around towards Mabel, clenching his phone tightly in his hand, “Mabel!”

“Yes sir,” she responded, her voice sharp and definitely attentive.

He tossed the phone to her, “Get rid of this.”

The girl caught it midair and held up the phone with pride, “You'll never know where it went. I won't either.”

Dipper put a hand to his head, “It's going in a ditch isn't it?”

“To the ditch it is! I mean- no!” she raced out the front door into the night.

The teen boy had dealt with enough ridiculous behaviour today that he just was not in the mood to deal with that phone any more. It was taking so much out of him. He decided that he was just going to end today, and he went upstairs, lied down in his bed, and tried to sleep.

It took a few hours, but eventually he managed to fall asleep.

Dipper dreamt of voices swirling in his head, causing nebulae of pain to explode, colouring his vision shades of violet and blue with bright white and beige sparks scattered throughout. His head felt constricted, almost as if it was in the grasp of a boa. He fell to his knees and pressed his hands to the side of his head, feeling them get sticky and wet. The teen put his hands in front of his face and opened his eyes to see what was on him, but only managed to see a quick blip of red in his vision before the star systems began to swirl and pervade his brain. He curled up in a ball, and waited for it to be over.

He jerked awake to a buzzing sound. The teen's body froze as he turned slightly to look at the table beside him.

He had a text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References. References everywhere.
> 
> And cliffhangers. Oh boy, cliff hangers. Y'all are gonna HATE next chapter, that one will be a DOOZY.


	7. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I could I'd kiss your lips so hard your entire face would bruise  
> Write your name in blood on everyone it would make the evening news  
> I'd chain our feet together so that you could never leave.  
> I'd make you love me so much you'd have to ask permission to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning (not saying what for, don't want to spoil it, just keep in mind the theme of this story and make an assumption.)

Tearing off his pajamas and practically slamming his day clothes on (a measly t-shirt and some partially ripped jeans) he grabbed the phone off his bedside table and flew out that door faster than a tagger fleeing police. He jumped over most of the stairs as he made it down, completely disregarding the loud noises it made. It may be early morning, but Dipper gave no fucks. He practically sprinted out of the shack into the forest. His breath was ragged and his mind was foggy as he raced into the woods, determined to get as far away as he could possibly go without leaving the country. Actually, leaving he country wouldn't be that bad.

After running for what felt like eternity, he came upon the lake he had gone fishing on that first summer he had been here with Grunkle Stan. Was he really only this far away? It felt a lot farther. He yanked the phone out of his pocket, and without even glancing at the screen he pulled his arm back and rocketed that phone straight out over the lake. He watched eagerly at the ripples, those facts of physics that told him hey, that phone you just threw? Yeah, it made it in the lake. It won't be coming back unless some monster is bringing it back.

His breathing heavy, he stared off at the lake, feeling his mind's fog clear up only slightly. He hadn't run super far and yet he felt like he had run multiple marathons. Adrenaline didn't usually wear off this quickly, right? Dipper sat down with a huff in the grass, his breath still audible from a distance.

“Pines?” A voice echoed out from a short distance around the lake.

Dipper's head jerked to face that direction, his senses immediately alert. A wash of relaxation flooded him when his mind finally recognized the voice's owner.

Mister Bill himself.

He groaned loudly and flopped on his back, “I'm not-” he gasped for breath, “moving.”

The teen watched the clouds in the sky as he heard footsteps near him from his left, and eventually the beautiful view of the sky was interrupted by the older man's face.

“Aren't you a little overdressed to be sunbathing, Pine Tree?” He quipped.

“Shut your-” he gasped for breath a little quieter this time, “mouth you son of-” he took another breath, and used that breath as a substitute for whatever insult he was going to tag his sentence with.

Bill sat on the grass beside Dipper, “You know I'm never going to get the grass stains out of these pants, Pines.”

“And whose fault is that-” another breath, “for coming to the lake in formal wear?”

Bill shook his head and nodded, “You've got me there.”

“Darn right,” Dipper breathed.

“And why are you so worn out?”

“Long story,” he ended his sentence firmly and bitterly, hoping the older man would understand the implication that Dipper was not in the mood at all for discussing his problems. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, and sighed heavily.

Bill raised his eyebrows, “Well, Pine Tree, I'll have you know that I'm not here for sunbathing.”

“You're already tanned.”

“Thanks for noticing, I had no idea. I could have sworn I was pale as the snow yesterday. Oh well, what the hell.”

Dipper pulled a tuft of grass out of the ground and tossed it at him, “Oh no I'm ruining your precious clothing!” His voice was playful and taunting.

Bill threw a tuft of grass in return, “Hilarious. Anyways, I'm here because this was the closest place.”

“Closest place for what?”

“Oh,” Bill mused, “my car broke down. I managed to haul the thing here in the hopes that maybe there'd be a mechanic here but so far no-one's showed up.”

The teen boy laughed, “That's because it's like five in the morning. People will start to come around six.”

Bill looked at the sky, “Is it really? I couldn't tell. And I guess that means I have an hour to kill.”

Dipper stood up, followed by the man. “Well, I should probably start walking back to the shack.”

A look of almost desperation flashed across Bill's eye as he interrupted, “Wait, why don't you wait with me?”

The teen boy crossed his arms over his chest and gave the most smug smirk it challenged Bill's resting face, “Oh? So now you're the desperate one?”

Bill smiled, “Call me names all you want, but wouldn't a ride back be better? It would probably take you over an hour of walking, and someone might get here early and fix the car- it's a simple fix I know it- and I can drive you back, which would be better in the long run.”

Shrugging a little, Dipper furrowed his brow, “I don't know, I'm not sure Grunkle Stan is okay with me getting rides from people he doesn't know.”

“He'd probably feel better about that than having you walk a few miles through the woods where dangerous creatures lurk.” Bill dangled his fingers over his face in a joke. “Spooky scary.”

What the hell, why not? Dipper suppressed most of a smile, “Fine, I'll keep your sorry butt company.”

“That you will,” Bill muttered as he walked with Dipper back to his car.

When the two arrived, Bill silently sat on the flat hood, “There's a soda in the back seat if you want it.”

Dipper opened the back door and reached in, and in his mind he saw a flash of his parents telling him to never, ever, ever, ever get in a stranger's car.

A hand clasped over his mouth and he felt something sharp jab into his neck.

“Shhh.”

His vision began to blur, and his knees grew weak. He made a last ditch effort to cry for help, but went unheard as his vision grew black.

XxXxX

Dipper awoke in the back seat of the man's car, his hands and feet bound with what felt like a ziptie. The car was definitely moving. It was a ruse. It was all just a ruse. How much of their timid friendship was a ruse? All of it? He kept his eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep. He might be able to surprise the freak.

“Pine Tree you can't keep your consciousness hidden, your breathing totally gives it away.”

Damn it.

“Bill, why?”

“Why what? If you're asking about the letter y, it's the-”

“Don't play dumb with me you jackass!” Dipper snapped, his breathing hitching in his throat as he felt tears of fear well up into his eyes.

The man slammed on the brakes, and Dipper rolled across the seat and hit the sharp console, letting out a gasp of pain. “You're not comprehending the position you're in, kid. You're bound, tied, and still snapping at me? Really? Have you ever seen a murder show?”

The terrified whimper Dipper let out made Bill re-choose his words, “I mean, I'm not going to murder you, if that's what you're thinking. I just meant, if you make your captor mad, usually they kill you. Again, not going to kill you.” He bit his lip. Man, he was bad with words today.

Dipper clenched his eyes closed and ground his teeth against the sharp plastic of the console digging into his ribcage.

“It's funny how dumb you are,” Bill added with a very snarky tone.

The man laughed and Dipper whimpered.

The ride felt like it took three years. Dipper dreaded the outcome the entire way. Where was he? Where was he going? What was going to happen to him?

That last question was the one he chose to dwell on. Bill could be playing a joke gone wrong, but this seemed far too serious. Was he going to hold him for ransom? Was he going to just make the town go crazy? Was he trying to hurt his family? Oh hell, Dipper knew the reason. It was plain and obvious, he just didn't want the words to coincide in his head. He didn't want to think about it.

But it was all he could think about.

Eventually the car slowed to a stop, and Dipper heard Bill get out of the car. His heart beat in his throat and he choked on his own breath. He was shaking, and he was holding back tears.

The side door opened, and Dipper felt hands on his arms pull him out of the car. He knew that even if he wasn't bound he wouldn't be able to stand, he was so shaky. A pit in his stomach weighed him down, and he felt like time wasn't even passing at this point.

He was set surprisingly gently on the ground, however he unceremoniously flopped onto his stomach. Fear manifested in the urge to vomit, and Dipper dryheaved twice.

“Pine Tree, that is unattractive.”

Dipper had no voice to respond.

The man wrapped his arms around Dipper and pulled him close, making sure to keep him in his grasp but not too close so as to be in range of any possibly snapping teeth. “I don't want to hurt you, Dipper.”

The teen's eyes were wide with fear. He didn't believe a single word out of this man's mouth.

“I just didn't want to wait. I figured you're probably not the type to get into relationships right off the bat, and I didn't want to wait more than a few days, so I wanted to push you a little, you know. Get you into it.”

“You're insane,” Dipper managed to scrape out.

He laughed, and it sent chills down Dipper's spine, “I think the term is head over heels. Regardless, I know that Stan would be rather, how do you say, angry, if his grand nephew dated a man over 18. Or dated a man in general? I don't know his opinion on gay relationships.”

“I don't want to be in a relationship with you, I never did, I never will!”

Bill put a hand on Dipper's chin and forced him to look at him, “Oh, I'll make you.”

Dipper was positively shaking.

The man grinned, “Tell you what, I want to be with you. You clearly don't want to be with me. That's not how a relationship is. So, how about this: if you don't agree to date me, I'll kill your sister.”

The urge to vomit was strong in Dipper, and he managed to hold it down. “Y-” he managed to stutter out, “You wouldn't-”

Bill's hand moved from his chin to his neck, and to Dipper it felt as if the man's hand was on fire.

“It doesn't have to be public. I just want to be with you, intimately. Don't you love your sister?”

“Of course-”

“Then say it.”

Dipper swallowed tensely, feeling the man's hand tighten ever so slightly, “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay we'll be together.”

Bill smiled, “Say you love me.”

“Bill-”

“Say it or I'll burn down the shack with everyone in it.”

Dipper blinked back tears, it was just words right? He didn't have to mean it, he wouldn't mean it.  
No way would he mean it. But Mabel, the shack, everyone there? He loved them. And they were worth a few words.

“I love you.”

The man looked so pleased with himself it made Dipper sick.

“Can I go home?” Dipper pleaded, his voice quiet.

The man's hand moved from Dipper's throat to his shoulder, where it messed with his shirt's edge. “Oh, you idiot. I'm not nearly done with you.”

Dipper's throat felt clogged with fear as the man dragged his finger's over Dipper's shoulder, pulling his shirt away barely an inch in the process.

“You're not going to continue being a jerk, are you?” The man purred.

Dipper swallowed the anxiety in his throat and shook his head slightly.

“Is it alright to kiss you?”

With a glare, Dipper responded angrily, “No.”

“Pine Tree,” the man's voice was so sweet it was menacing, and it absolutely reeked of danger. The threat lied so heavily over his words that Dipper was scared to say no again. So he ever so slightly shook his head yes.

There was nothing he could do.

XxXxX

Mabel had gotten up a decent time after Dipper had split through the house. When she noticed his bed was empty, she presumed that he must be downstairs eating already. She threw on a tanktop and shorts and made her way downstairs, rubbing her eyes.

No-one was there.

She frowned, “Dipper?” she called out, hoping to hear her twin's voice.

Nothing.

Perhaps he had gone out? Well, there was only one way to find out. She raced back upstairs and rifled through the miscellaneous papers constantly strewn across his bed. Sooner than later, her hand hit that familiar cover of journal number 3.

He hadn't taken journal number 3 with him when he left.

There was something wrong.

Mabel grabbed the journal and raced back downstairs. She placed the journal on the table and went back to the kitchen, grabbing a handful of granola bars- deciding rather to just take the whole box- and as such racing back to the table. She spun a little on the chair and immediately opened the journal.

“What would Dipper look for?” she questioned herself, attempting to think like her nerdy brother. After attempting to think like him for a bit, her mind wandered back into her own thinking patterns and she remembered the dreams they had. The ones where they both hit the ground.

She flipped through the book, looking for a certain page she knew existed. Dreams, dreams, dream demon!

Bill Cipher!

She felt her heart drop, and she immediately stuffed an entire granola bar into her mouth. This was going to be a long day.

Mabel paced downstairs until finally her Grunkle Stan showed up, to which she gave an excited squeak, grabbed the journal off the table and ran up to him, “Grunkle Stan look!”

“What? It's early, I'm busy-”

“Evil demon triangle, G-Stan.”

The man was instantly attentive, “What now? What about that P-O-S?”

She slammed the journal back on the table, “Dipper is gone, and he left the journal here. We've been having weird dreams lately, and Dipper's going crazy with the ghost-texter, I'm betting foul play on behalf of this guy! We never properly rebound him back where he came from, he's just been floating around like a bad piece of eraser shavings in your soda pop!” The girl was practically huffing in anger by the time she was done, “I think Dipper's in trouble.”

“Have you seen him at all today?” the man was so serious Mabel was nearly shocked.

“Nope. I do vaguely recall him racing out of the room, but I thought I was just dreaming or something.”

“And you say you've been having nightmares?”

“Well,” she started, “Dipper and I both shared a weird dream, one of those falling ones, y'know? But in this one we both hit the ground, and we both were hurting when we woke up. Dipper's been very sleepless too, and exhausted, and actually kinda paranoid.” She blinked a few times, her brother's weird behaviour coming in a different light now.

“And what was that about a ghost texter?”

She perked up, “Oh, not actually a ghost, just weird texts. Like, two people texting from the same one, and the texter talking in riddles.”

“Where's his phone?”

She shrugged, “We got rid of it last night. Dipper was about to go KABOOM with anger or something so I took the phone and chucked it somewhere in the forest. I dunno where it is. May or may not be related to a ditch.”

She sat down at the table, her grunkle sitting across from her. Mabel looked out the window, “I want to go find him. But I have no idea where to look. Or even why he's gone.”

XxXxX

It was late at night when Dipper made it back to the shack. He was surprised, and pretty dang glad, that Bill hadn't gone too far. The man was creepy, downright pedophilic, but at least he wasn't a rapist. Dipper mentally smacked himself for defending the offender. It would be an awkward conversation if anyone figured out what happened. His only concerns were regarding the red half-rings around his wrists. Perhaps he could hide them?

He remembered what Bill had told him before he let him go: If he tells anyone, or if anyone finds out, he'd go after Mabel instead.

Dipper would rather take the brunt of this psychopath's problems. Mabel was never going to be hurt the way he was.

He waited outside just beyond the reach of the light for about half an hour, thinking over a viable excuse for why he was gone. Would out for a walk work? No, definitely not. The lake? He was kidnapped from there while no-one was around. No-one to back up an alibi, except Bill, but he wasn't going to mention the man. That would mess everything up to the extreme, and everyone would get hurt. Damn it, what was there to come up with?

The phone. Maybe the texter had an idea. He was off-put about texting, but of course he had to take the risk.

He opened up the message centre, and saw two texts. Both from the bad-speller.

“dipper im trying 2 help u”, sent around three a.m., about the time when he had found the phone on the table.

The next one said, “oh my god dipper i am so sorry...” Sent forty five minutes ago. He wasn't even surprised he hadn't heard it.

He typed in, “can you help me think of an alibi”. No bothering with capitalization or punctuation this time.

He waited for five minutes, and no response. For a phone that somehow managed to find its way back to him every time he got rid of it, this was a plain “im not helping you at the moment, sucker.”

Dipper decided to wing it. What could be worse than Bill?

He opened the shack door, and saw Mabel, Grunkle Stan, Wendy, and Soos inside. Upon hearing the door open, the four people turned their faces to Dipper, and one by one they realized it was him. Mabel hopped over the table and lunged towards Dipper, pulling him into a tight hug, “Bro Bro you're not dead!”

She sounded like she was about to cry.

“I- what?” he started to feel his mind go fuzzy.

People began to ask questions, but he was barely hearing any of it. A voice in the back of his head overpowered everything else, and exclaimed, “Do not tell them.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets, hoping to hide the red.

He just stared until finally it got silent as they waited for him to respond. He opened his mouth, and only managed to get “I-” out before feeling himself choke up. “I got lost.” Hopefully that was good enough.

Another hug from Mabel, and as he was looking over her shoulder he noticed his journal lying out on the table, its pages flipped open to a pair of blanks. He walked over to it, “Why is my journal out here?”

Again there was silence. Mabel tensed up, “Dipper.”

He furrowed his brow, “Huh?”

“Give me your journal.”

He handed her the book, “What is it?”

“Remember the triangle guy? He messed with dreams. The fact that we both had the same one with the falling thing, and were both hurting the morning after, what if he did something?”

Dipper's mind went blank. The edges of his vision were beginning to blur as he mouthed, barely making an audible sound, “Triangle guy?”

She held open the pages and turned the book towards him, “Bill Cipher, the triangle guy! Remember? Gideon summoned him and we all went into Grunkle Stan's mind.”

Dipper blinked a few times, trying to clear the fuzz that was impounding coherent thoughts, “Mabel...”

“What?”

“Those pages are blank.”

They all just stared, Soos butting in, “Dude I didn't realize you couldn't read.”

“It is blank, there's nothing there! Are you guys trying to pull a joke on me, cause this isn't funny at all. I'm tired and I just want to take a shower.”

“Dipper please, I'm not pulling a prank on you, and I swear to god you'd better not be pulling a prank on me.”

He balled his hands into fists, “I'm serious. I've never-” he paused, clenching his eyes closed for a few seconds before opening them, “I can't remember anything about a triangle guy. I've heard the name, but it doesn't connect to a triangle.”

Mabel stalked towards him, her hands crossed over her chest, gripping her upper arms tightly, “What does it connect to then?”

He froze, and fear flashed through his eyes for a moment before he shoved it aside, “I- I don't remember.”

The teen girl raised her eyebrows, “Dipper Pines. You're grounded. As in you're staying home from now on.”

“Mabel-!”

“Grounded!”

Dipper huffed and stomped a few steps away, turning his back to her. “How long?” he bitterly inquired.

“Three.”

“Three what?”

“Now it's four!”

Dipper felt his heart grow tight and he felt numb all over. How would Bill take this? Would he get mad? Would he think Dipper had spilled the vile secret? What if he hurt Mabel? What if he hurt Wendy? He swallowed down the bile that was building in his throat, and managed to squeak out- his voice cracking in the process- “I'm going to bed.”

She stomped her foot, “No I need to know-”

“I'm going to bed!” he screamed, his voice cracked from fear, dropping it instead of raising it like puberty did. His breathing was ragged and his body was shaking, “I've had a long day,” he added in an exasperated tone, “I'll talk tomorrow, I promise.”

Mabel made a grab for him but she was stopped by Wendy's hand on her shoulder, “Something's wrong, and pushing him isn't going to help at all.”

Dipper made his way upstairs and to the bathroom, his breathing getting worse and worse as he went. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to do both and tear something apart. His hands went to his hair where he tugged and gasped for breath as he staggered into the bathroom. He violently turned the water on full blast so the sound muffled his cry of despair. He bit his lip to stop any more. Dipper threw his hat on the ground and pulled his shirt off his body, gritting his teeth as he tore at the fabric. It didn't rip, but it damn well looked like it would. His arms shook from exertion, and he ended up tossing the shirt on the ground and gripping the wall with his hands, feeling tears slowly slide down his face. He took a gasp of breath as he felt his stomach turn over and he whipped around towards the toilet, trying as hard as possible not to make any sound as he retched. He hadn't had anything at all to eat all day, not even any water. Only foam from his stomach came up, and his body shook as he cried over the toilet. He was glad the sound of the shower drowned it all out. Dipper removed the rest of his clothes and got in the cold shower, feeling the icy droplets sting his skin. He grabbed the bar of soap and began scrubbing hard, harder, harder over his skin. It began to burn as he scrubbed more intensely, bubbles foaming around his skin. He didn't feel clean. He felt wrong. He took his nails and scraped them over his arm, trying to get rid of the feeling that Bill left on him but he couldn't. It was there, and it wasn't going away. It was only going to get worse. A parasite of his skin, one that couldn't be washed or scratched away, not even surgically removed. Forever and ever and ever. Dipper scrubbed down his entire body, his face and neck especially, then he plopped down and sat in the bottom of the tub, the shower raining over him. He sat like that until his skin began to darken from the cold, to which he finally turned off the water and got out, shaking more than he'd ever shook before.

He went to his room and got dressed in pajamas, after which he grabbed the clothes he had worn that day and tossed them in the trash can. He was never wearing those again. He hoped he wouldn't run out of clothes by the end of the summer.

Dipper lied down on his bed and pulled the blanket over him entirely. He curled up in a ball and wept until he was too tired to continue, and fell asleep.

XxXxX

He opened his eyes to see a dream world around him, filled with grey, pink, yellow, and purple, along with a few other pastel colours. Blue, however, was not among them. He took a few steps, and was washed with the smell of sickly sugar. He felt himself being spun around, not by hands, but by his own mind. He was face to face with someone resembling a human. She had tan skin, and her black hair was short and wavy with a few curls thrown in. She wore a suit where each part of it was flipped colours, like her left sleeve was black while the right was white, and her vest was split in half so the left half was white and the right half was black. Very impractical. Now that he thought about it, was she even a she? He'd call her that for the sake of convenience.

“Who are you?” he questioned.

“Y hb Oyaa” It sounded foreign to his ears, but he understood it at the same time.

“I'm dreaming, aren't I?”

“Dfn hm rpbe hm y nsfpksn.”

“Why are you here?”

“Nf niaa xfp mfbinsydk ybgflnhdn.”

“What is it?”

“xfp'qi kfn fdi bfli viiu.”

“Of what?” He inquired.

But she was gone.

Dipper's dream faded away, and he slept dreamless for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some things I feel like I should clarify.
> 
> 1) Bill is a manipulative fuck. He makes Dipper give "consent" before he does anything, so in his mind he's keeping himself free of guilt. Dipper gives consent, it's not sexual assault, he wins. This includes messing with Dipper's memory about who he is. This is the reason he siphons so much of Dipper's energy (mostly), it takes a lot of energy to go inside the head and find every last scrap of info about him.
> 
> 2) I will never write a rape scene. I hope my writing keeps implications of rape from showing up. Bill did not rape Dipper. Bill did not molest Dipper sexually. He made out with Dipper for a while, then dropped him off a few miles from town and made him walk back. Dipper spent most of the day alone, not with Bill. I didn't write it because it was unnecessary.
> 
> 3) I'm sorry.
> 
> 4) In case it isn't obvious yet, this is an AU. Not simply time wise, but maturity wise. I'm going past kid's-show-Bill-Cipher and pulling off Probably-Adult-Swim-Bill-Cipher. Adult themes like domestic abuse and severe depression will be explored. My Bill is more demonic in the sense that yeah, he's insane and crazy, but he also has very little bounds. He's a demon and he knows it, why would be be bound by human laws of decency? I'm trying to keep Bill's dialogue and actions lighthearted and funny but it's so difficult I am sorry. Writing characters meant for kids in a more adult sense is difficult to do without changing a few characteristics. I'm trying, I promise!
> 
> 5) THIS WILL BE DARK. If you are expecting fluff then man I have some good billdip ones I can recommend but this will not be fluff.
> 
> 6) I'm sorry x1000 for taking like 20 days to update
> 
> (if there are typos please tell me!)


	8. Second Monday pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with an angry family is hard when you feel broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 2 for the second Monday in the fic. This was 7 pages. Part 2 will probably be about the same length.
> 
> Also sorry for the wait! Depression is a pain in my ass that makes me just do literally nothing all day.

It was dark out when Dipper woke up. His eyelashes felt thick and heavy from where tears had clumped them together. He sighed heavily and wiped his eyes with the back if his hands, immediately remembering about the marks that were still inevitably there. Quietly, he tiptoed across the room and grabbed a jacket, putting it on over his shirt. The long sleeves would hopefully keep him somewhat hidden.

Mabel was still asleep, or at least he thought she was. She was on her side, facing away from him. Dipper swallowed tensely and tugged on a pair of jeans. Still asleep. Good.

He snuck downstairs, every step releasing a tiny creak in the old boards that made up the stairs.  
It was still dark out, so it must be pretty damn early. He hadn't bothered to bring the phone with him. that was too much for him to deal with. He was just going to assume that it was 3 am.

Not surprisingly, there was no-one downstairs. Again, too damn early. He figured that since he was grounded via Mabel's Law, he might as well eat while under the comfort of not being stared at while his family waited anxiously for an answer. Oh god, an answer. Telling them exactly what had happened to him yesterday and why he was gone for so long. Why he couldn't remember this triangle named Bill Cipher. Of course he knew of a guy named Bill Cipher, and while that man had a body that some may describe as having sharp points, this man was no dorito. He was a creep, probably a stalker, and most definitely a pedophile, but he wasn't a triangle.

Why couldn't he remember what they all seemed to remember? Why couldn't he see what they all saw in that book? Did he hit his head on something? No, that's utter bologna, no this was something more powerful. It was Gravity Falls! There must be a supernatural explanation to this!

And the journal would be of absolutely no help to him this time.

He couldn't eat at this point. He wasn't even thirsty. He lightly trod his way on over to the big chair where Grunkle Stan loved to sit, and he curled up on its big cushions and closed his eyes, waiting for someone to come downstairs.

He awoke again to a gentle prod on his shoulder. He opened his eyes after a second to see his sister's face, a gentle look on her eyes as if she was talking to a frightened deer.

"Dipper? You okay?"

Sitting upright, he put a hand to his head and groaned quietly. Should have stayed awake when he got up earlier, now he had a headache. "Yeah," he muttered, "I'm fine."

She sat on the side of the chair as if afraid moving away from her brother would cause him to leave again. Dipper peered around her, and noticed that the whole gang was here. Oh god how long was he asleep?

"Uhh... What time is it?" he dared to ask. It's not like they'd deny him that right to know.

"Noon," his sister replied.

His eyes widened a little and he sat up straighter, "Wh- Why didn't you guys wake me up earlier than that? I'm going to sleep the whole day away."  
"How long have you been down here?" Wendy asked, leaning anxiously against the countertop. "Mabel said she woke up at dawn and you weren't in bed."

He sighed and put his head in his hands, "I woke up and it was still dark out, I'm not entirely sure what time it was, I was going to eat something but then I upset myself and sat in this chair and I guess I fell asleep. And slept through you guys all congregating here seriously what's that all about?"

Mabel exchanged a look with Grunkle Stan that Dipper could not decipher, and she looked back at Dipper and breathed in sharply, "Dipper we need to know everything that's going on." She looked back behind herself at the small crowd there for what seemed to be support, before she looked back at her brother, "Y- You're hiding something and I'm very concerned for what it is."

"You doin' drugs, kid? Listen when I said teenaged rebellion-" Wendy started.

Dipper interrupted her, nearly jumping out of his chair in the process, "No I'm not on drugs. Go ahead and take me to get me a drug test if you don't believe me." After those words spilled from his mouth, he desperately hoped that the sharp pinch he felt before he was, well, abducted by Bill was just someone doing the Vulcan squeezy thing on him and not something like a tranquilizer. Having tranquilizer in his bloodstream would give away what happened to him and Bill would take that chance and hurt Mabel and everyone else and-

He hadn't realized it but while those thoughts were racing through his head his breathing was getting harsher, his teeth and fists were clenching and his headache was intensifying. When he came back to reality he noticed concern and- was that fear in Mabel's gaze? He had to leave he had to go somewhere and do something away from these people whose judging stares bore him into the floorboards.

“I'm not on anything, I swear-” he started. His head began to feel fogged up, like something was in there, blocking his mind from coming up with coherent statements. They just stared at him and he began to feel anxious, paranoid, like they were reading his mind and finding out all his secrets. Body language is too fluent, he can tell they know he's hiding something, they think he's crazy with the past events. The phone at the wall, him coming home late, his recent, behaviour, crazy crazy! “I'm not a psychopath!” he nearly screamed, his voice cracking. Whoa, where'd that come from? Psychopath is a strong word.

"Holy fish, dude, what's gotten into you?" Soos tried to get an answer from him, but all he got was the teen stepping back.

Dipper began to feel fear as things spiraled out of control. The longer this went on the closer he got to revealing what happened to him and he could not risk it, he absolutely couldn't. He had to get ahold of himself. Think of a lie. Something that can be used as a scapegoat for this unseemly behaviour.

He took a deep breath, shaky like the rest of his body, but enough to make him calm down. "I- I think-" he managed to choke out, "I think this has something to do with whatever took my memories." Good, now they'll focus on the memory loss and not the little flip out. He swallowed tensely, barely managing to get it down.

Grunkle Stan took this opportunity to finally add some words to the conversation, "We don't even know what's causing that, or why you can't see what's on the page."

"It all comes back to Bill Cipher," Mabel interrupted him. Stan raised an eyebrow at her interruption and she just shrugged it off, "Dipper, you were saying you knew someone by that name before you left last night. Who do you know?"

He knew Bill Cipher the human, not the triangle. "I don't- I don't remember." Liar.

She spun around, "Grunkle Stan, do you remember when Dipper, Soos, and I all went into your head and found Bill trying to get your memory of the passcode?"

"Yeah, what about it?" the gruff man answered.

She put a fist into the palm of her hand and smiled a little, "He messes with memories, What if he's messing with Dipper's?" She pointed at him. When all eyes were on him, he felt insanely uncomfortable, and that foggy paranoid began to shadow his mind again.

"That doesn't explain why he can't read the pages," Wendy added.

"Or why he did the thing he just did just now," Soos added on to Wendy's statement.

Dipper crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm right here, you know," he muttered angrily, half to himself and half to anyone who was listening.

"As I was saying, I think we need to find this triangle guy and send him back to whatever level of Hell his sorry ass crawled out of," She practically hissed those words. Wow, she was definitely pissed off at this guy. Grunkle Stan opened his mouth to scold her for her language but the look she gave him silenced him immediately. From Dipper's perspective, he couldn't see the look, but he figured he didn't want to.

Was this demon the guy he actually knew, or was it just a name coincidence? Perhaps Bill was lying and his name wasn't actually Bill? Could he have adopted that name so as to strike some medium of fear into the people who heard that name? Like a kid he knew who went by Luce, who constantly talked about whether or not the name was short for Lucy or Lucifer? The latter was more terrifying, and it honestly wasn't a surprise that Luce had no friends. Perhaps Bill is using a scare tactic?

But he couldn't ask his family about the name possibility, could he? Things would spill out, his family would go to the man and probably try to exorcise him. He'd probably kill them in return. This was a major issue. Dipper felt like a link between two completely separate, conflicting worlds where if information about one side got through to the other it would tear both apart. Mabel and the rest couldn't possibly find out about the Bill Cipher he knew, and Bill Cipher couldn't possibly figure out that Dipper's family was tracking him down indirectly and trying to send a demon with his name back to Hell.

He needed to talk to the guy and figure out if he was actually the demon or not. But how on Earth was he going to get there when he was grounded via Mabel's Law? She had her eyes on him practically 24-7 and there was no way he'd be able to make it to town, find Bill, get answers, and get back to the Shack before it was obvious he had left. That would only be possible in some fiction story, like an anime or something, or one of those dramatic tv shows. Perhaps a fanfiction about some cartoon.

Oh he had an idea but it was not at all one that he wanted to resort to. The phone. That phone had something unnatural, almost paranatural about it. Who was he kidding, it was more unnatural than canned cheese! Perhaps the thing on the other side could give him answers instead?

He regretted not bringing it downstairs with him at this point. What would allow him to go upstairs and get it? Mabel thought it was gone, didn't she? After all, she had thrown it away.

"Dipper? Are you deaf?" his sister's impatient voice rang in his ears and shoved the thoughts out of his head.

He shook his head a little, "What? Sorry I was spaced out."

She glared a little, her expression softening up once she realized that she was glaring. "I'm sorry, Bro Bro," she sighed, "but can you please pay attention for once?"

He nodded a little bit, trying to focus on her.

"As I was saying," she continued, "Dipper's journal has the information in this Cipher guy. You'll let us use it, right Dip?"

Nodding, he silently granted permission. He figured if he said no then there was no way that they'd ever let him be on his own again.

Oh! The perfect chance!

"I'll go get it," he said and nearly raced up the stairs. His heart pounded loudly as he grabbed the journal, then grabbed the phone from its place and shoved it into his pocket. While they'd be searching for answers in something he couldn't read, he would be trying to talk answers out of the phone guy.

Coming back downstairs a little more casually, he handed Mabel the journal, and stuck both hands in his jacket pockets, one of the hands grasping tightly around the phone that was nestled against him in the fabric. He couldn't let them know that he had the phone with him still.

He waited until they were all focused on the journal, dragging their fingers along the pages, smudging the delicate penmanship, violating the pages...no he couldn't get bent out of shape right now, he had a thing to do. Dipper pulled the phone out of his pocket and unlocked the screen. No damage whatsoever to the phone. Still odd. He typed in a simple message, “Who is Bill Cipher?”

The phone buzzed almost immediately, and he hurried to mute it. He opened the phone, and it read, “Your friend.”

Dipper glared a little at the screen. That was probably one of the most ambiguous answers he could have been given. He typed in return, “What do you mean?”

“Friend means ally, Dipshit.”

Was that a pun on his name? It better not be. He retaliated with, “Not what I meant. Is Bill Cipher a demon? Or a person? Both?”

The possibility that this Bill Cipher could be both had never even crossed his mind until now.

“Is that a serious question?”

He sat down on the chair. Mabel was chanting something to the rest of the family, but he couldn't care to listen. He responded with, “Of course.”

“Going nowhere with these questions, kiddo.”

“It wasn't a question,” Dipper responded, feeling rather irritated at this point.

The phone's little message popped up, “To get me to answer a question would be the day.”

His head was beginning to spin. “I'm confused, what are you talking about?”

“Hurt your mind with the incessant questions?”

“Can you please just tell me who the everliving fuck Bill Cipher is???” Three question marks. The phone guy was rubbing off on him.

It took a little longer than usually, but eventually the response arrived, lighting up his phone with the words, “You shouldn't text me any more.”

He froze. This was the different text. This was the one who texted in proper grammar. This was the one who couldn't be trusted.

Where was the other one? Where was the one who texted with errors, and seemed to somewhat care about him? What happened to them? Their triple question marks were kinda cute.

Well, what a surprise, literally no answers from this. It's almost like- wait a minute, another text?

“Dipper Pines, Piney Piney Pine Tree. Who did you tell?”

If blood could freeze his veins would be frozen shut.

He shakily typed back, “How do you know that nickname?”

He stared at the screen while he waited for a response. His eyes didn't leave the screen until the little message box popped up. He read it. It read, “You really are dense, aren't you? You really have no idea who this is?”

The teen swallowed tensely as he typed in the single word, “No?” and sent it.

The phone was snatched out of his hand, “Dipper what is this?”

“Uh-” he wasn't allowed to continue before the phone was nearly crunched in his sister's iron grip.

“Dipper, did you go chasing this phone after I threw it out?”

“No!” he protested, his voice genuine.

“Then why do you have it? I lost it, I don't even remember where I lost it!” She sounded tired and exasperated. A voice in the back of Dipper's head told him to blame himself.

His heart was in his throat, “Mabel, listen, we both know there's something weird with that phone-”

“Yes,” Wendy interrupted, “you told us that already.”

“Let me finish,” he snapped, a little more bitter than he intended, “Look, it likes to reappear around me. I don't go chasing it, it just appears.”

Mabel raised an eyebrow, then unlocked the phone. Dipper lunged himself at her, trying to grab it. There was a next from last night they couldn't read. There were texts from last night they just couldn't see! As he tried to pry it from her grasp, he was pulled away by Soos, who honestly showed very little problem in getting the spindly teen away from his sister.

“Please just give it back!”

“I want to know what the ghosty texter has said,” Mabel replied, “There's a reason you're so desperate to keep the phone.”

She's good. He had to give her props for that, but now was not the time for her to be smarter than him! He tried to get out of Soos's grasp, but the look on Mabel's face told it all.

“Alibi?” she questioned.

Soos let go.

Wendy's brow furrowed, and she looked more suspicious than concerned, “What would you need an alibi for?”

The world tilted. Dipper felt sick to his stomach. He hadn't even eaten for a while. How long was it now? Over a day at least, maybe two. He had vomited foam around Bill, he wouldn't even have that to vomit here if he did. Think, Dipper, think! You can get out of this. What would be a good lie, nothing too bad. Nothing that took too much time to think of, nothing out of the ordinary for him. Think think think-!

The door to the shack opened. Grunkle Stan pried his attention away from Dipper, to go tend to whoever had entered the shack. The man wouldn't turn away money.

Dipper took the opportunity to snatch the phone from his sister's grasp, his breathing incredibly shallow. He grit his teeth and shoved the phone back into his pocket, thanking the heavens that some idiot had chosen now to enter the shack, saving him from an awkward explanation. He pointed stiffly towards the merchandise-filled part of the shack. “Let's deal with this later, okay?” Looking around at all the people in this room, he gave them a look of incredulity, “Well? We do have jobs.”

The abruptness of the change seemed to put them in a daze, but Wendy still looked angrily suspicious, and Soos just looked confused. Mabel glared at Dipper before pulling him into a hug, mumbling about still loving him, then she let go and left as well. It was weird how they all just left without an argument. Almost like they were repulsed.

He sat back in the chair, his legs shaking too much to keep himself standing. His headache was gone, somehow, and he still felt sick. He held one hand out just to see how shaky he was.

Very. Very shaky.

After calming his racing heart enough to stand up, he left that room and went out towards the shop. If he didn't help, they'd certainly find a way to make this into something else wrong with him. He stood next to the doorframe and looked out at the few people in the shop. There was a lady in her fifties, decked out in Hawaiian print, khaki pants, and that horrid socks and sandals combo, and another women who seemed to be that one's wife or something, dressed similarly except a different colour shirt.

Dipper retreated upstairs. There were two people, he was not needed. He put his shoes on and wrapped the jacket closer to him.

He pulled the phone out of the pocket he had stuffed it in. One new message.

“its the cipher guy hes been txting u dummy, dont relpy”

His face was torn between a grimace at the new information and a smile at the fact that it was this texter this time.

“*reply.”

There it was. The smile won out for a split second before it was covered by his hand, changing immediately to a look of horror.

He'd been texting Bill this entire time. Bill shared the number with this texter. He'd asked Bill for an alibi. He'd asked Bill for information on a demon sharing his name.

He was fucked.

Good thing he was already sitting down on his bed because he was certain that news would have knocked him off his feet. Oh wait a minute! This was the more reliable texter, the reliable phone guy! Maybe he could get a swift answer!

He texted back, his fingers pounding the keys, “who is bill cipher is he a demon or a guy???” Proper grammar be damned, he was in too much of a hurry. But not too much in a hurry to do the triple question marks. He liked those.

Anxiously awaiting the reply, he bit his nails on one hand and rapidly tapped his foot.

Bam! Message! He opened it to read, “wow okk he told me he wipeed ur mind but i didnt realiz how bad. hes a demon and a dude, avoid the nerd, avoid hin pls!!!” followed by “*typos, u figure it out”

He was dating a demon. Albeit not by choice, rather this was forced, but a demon nonetheless. He couldn't let this information get out. He couldn't even let anyone know this ghost texter knew Bill Cipher. That would be hell. He himself could barely deal with it. Dipper opened the message centre, and hit 'delete all'.

All messages were deleted. Every last one in his message centre.

Good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey at least he finally knows just what he's dealing with.
> 
> Read the first word of each of the first texter's messages up to "Dipper Pines."


	9. Second Monday pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reconciliation (of a sort)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel this should be mentioned right now. I probably should have mentioned it earlier, but better late than never, right?
> 
> I do not, do NOT, support or condone relationships like the one Bill and Dipper have. Anything where consent is even slightly questioned is a no-go for me.
> 
> So, sugarfreefox, why do you write this then? If you write it you must support it, right?
> 
> NO.
> 
> I write it because it is a real thing, and real issues should not be wiped away. If you want a billdip fic where there relationship is good and romantic, I can recommend a good number of ones, but please do not romanticize this relationship. It is toxic, it is bad, it is non-consensual, and it is a real thing some people have dealt with. If you don't want to read fics like this, I understand entirely, and I don't blame you at all. I don't get off writing things like this, or reading things like this. If you want to send me hate, my tumblr is sugarfreefox, go right ahead,
> 
> That is all.

So, dating a demon in a homosexual relationship. Was it even still qualified as homosexual? Was Bill really a dude? No, he didn't want to think about that. Gay demons, yeesh. Dipper ran his hand through his hair. Gross and unappealing. Good. He slapped his hat on to cover up some of his hair and walked back downstairs, phone in his pocket. He was in way over his head. He wanted, no, needed to get his family involved, but at the same time he was afraid for their lives. Hitting the last step and walking into the shop front, he made up his mind that he was going to tell them the truth about his relationship. But he wasn't going to say it was with that dumb demon. Perhaps Mabel would lift her ban, and Dipper wouldn't get them all killed.

He walked towards Mabel and grabbed her arm, “We need to talk now,” he whispered to her.

“Of course,” she complied, and pulled him back to the stairs. They went up a couple, and Dipper sat down on on. Mabel sat beside him. “What is it?” she asked.

“I'm sorry for-” he started, but she put her hand over his mouth.

She sighed quietly, “Dipper I need to apologize first.”

“For what?” he said, muffled still by her hand.

“For being so mean lately. I don't know, my head just feels fuzzy and I say things without thinking.”

Dipper shook his head a little, “No, no I'm sorry, I don't blame you. Lately I've just been compelled to lie to you about everything, and keep everything a secret.” He felt his head getting foggy. Was this the same fog Mabel was talking about?

“Anyways,” he continued, “I just wanted to come clean about everything. About last night. I was out because-” he stopped, his mind enveloped in mist. It was so hard to find the words he was looking for.

“I have a boyfriend.”

Mabel stared at him, her face unreadable. He looked back at her, unsure what to do. “Dipper,” she started, “that's great!” she grinned, her face breaking out in a smile. “Why couldn't you just tell me this before? It would have saved so much time.”

“I was afraid of-” come up with another lie, “of Grunkle Stan's response. You know..he always calls me weak and stuff, what if he doesn't approve? He'd probably kick us all out.”

She put a hand on his shoulder, “Dip Dop, I wish you would have told me sooner. I'm your sister, you can tell me anything.” Not anything. “I'm still worried, since I don't know this guy whatsoever, but if you come clean to the rest of the group, I'll lift my grounding ban.”

There's no way this was that easy. She had something up her sleeve didn't she? Where was that previous anger? That look of despair when she read his texts? Something was amiss.

“But what about that texter? There were some weird things there, Dipper...” she asked, her voice a little bit menacing.

He shrugged, “That even I'm not sure about. I think there are two texters, and they try to mess with my mind or something.” He internally yelled at himself for not being able to tell her the entire truth. What was with him today? “At this point I'm texting them just to see where it goes.”

She raised an eyebrow, “What if I texted them for a bit? They'd never know it was me.”

Dipper let out a loud laugh and immediately covered his mouth with his hand, “Mabel you put in so many smiley faces it's insane. You could never pass for me, master of drabness.”

Mabel laughed a little bit, “Oh alright. But keep me updated on the texts, I want to get to the bottom of this. Oh! If they're some ethereal being, ask them about your memory wipe. Perhaps they know?”

Oh Mabel. Oh dear, sweet Mabel. You're too smart for your own good. “Okay, I'll do that,” he said, and she smiled.

“Well, we'd better get back to work,” she said as she stood up, “how about when those tourists leave, we clear up this whole issue?”

Dipper nodded. He was digging this hole deeper and deeper. Soon enough he wouldn't be able to jump out.

XxXxX

When the tourists left, Dipper gathered the Shack employees (and of course Grunkle Stan), and told them he had a boyfriend. The reception was a lot better than he imagined. Soos gave him a thumbs up and an “alright dude!”, Wendy looked surprised and gave an offhand comment of “no wonder you've been out so much lately”, and Grunkle Stan just shrugged and went on his way. At least he wasn't hated. Dipper and Mabel chatted for a bit before Dipper managed to get permission to leave the shack. He needed to discuss things with Bill, as much as he hated the idea.

He left the shack dressed rather shabbily. He wanted to look as unattractive as possible. Unwashed hair? Check. Dirty clothes? Check. No deodorant? Check check checkity check. If that soggy pancake of a man wanted to get with him now there was something seriously wrong with him.

It didn't take long to get to town, and once he was there he realized he had no way of knowing where Bill would be. He gagged at the memory of his time with Bill, and he held back the desire to just turn around and leave. Where to go, where to go? Dipper just sighed and decided to go to the library. He'd met that freak there twice, hadn't he? That's the best shot he's got.

Walking up the steps to the library, he heard a voice behind him call out his name. Only it wasn't really his name.

“Pine Tree, so good to see you.”

Dipper swallowed tensely and turned around to see Bill. Oh god, why did he have to stand out so much? White shirt, black pants, and bright sunflower-yellow suspenders. A black bowtie around his neck, a matching tophat on his head of bright blond hair, all on tan skin. What an idiot. “Bill,” he said, with forced enthusiasm and an even more forced smile.

“How are you today?” the man inquired. It's like he completely forgot about yesterday.

“You're a demon!” Dipper almost shouted.

“I am?” Bill raised his eyebrows and looked down at himself, “Huh, I thought I looked pretty human, but I guess you never know. What are you, a werewolf? No, you’re not hairy enough for that.”

Dipper rolled his eyes, “No, I mean, you're Bill Cipher the triangle guy.”

That seemed to hit a chord. Bill tensed up and closed his good eye, “Listen, Pines, I don't know what you're talking about-”

“I talked with the phone guy, he told me everything.”

“She-” Bill interjected, then looked as if he could stuff a boot into his mouth.

“Ha!” Dipper pointed at him, “I knew it, you really are a demon.”

Bill bit his lip and tried to shush Dipper, “Listen, kiddo, can we not do that here? Somewhere else would be better to talk about one's state of demonicness than here.”

He didn't trust this man, he wanted to go absolutely nowhere with him, “No, I think right here is good.”

The man grabbed Dipper's shirt and pulled him close, “Remember our deal?”

Dipper gulped, “Fine,” he submitted.

Dropping him, the man grinned, “Alright, follow me.”

Mentally chanting “bad idea” repeatedly, Dipper still followed the man. He didn't want to, but he knew he had to. He was led around the side of the library, where there were more bushes and less people.

Bill stopped them there, “Ok Pine Tree, you wanted to talk? Let's talk.”

“You're a demon,” Dipper repeated.

“We've established this, or are you a broken record?” the tall man asked poisonously.

Dipper stomped his foot on the ground, “Did you take away my memories?”

“I most certainly did not.”

“Then how come I remember practically nothing about this demon triangle that was such a huge part of my life apparently, and how come whenever I look at pictures of you I don't see them, but everyone else does?”

The man put a hand over his heart, if he even had one, “You look at pictures of me? Pine Tree I am flattered-”

“Damn it Bill!” Dipper interrupted. “Just tell me the truth.”

“I don't know the truth,” he shrugged.

Dipper gave up on that part. He knew for certain this man was a demon, and that was good enough for him at this point. He'd pester him about that topic later, if there was a later. “Well, what about when you said she?”

“I never said 'she',” Bill said innocently.

Dipper glared, “You liar.”

“Again, so accusing.”

Dipper's jaw dropped slightly at this man's childish behaviour. Hard to believe he was a major creep underneath this dumb facade. Ha, dumb blond. “Bill, who else is on the phone?” He held up his phone, “Apparently you share a phone number with someone and they refuse to tell me who they are.”

“I have literally no idea what you are going on about.”

Dipper had an idea. He didn't want to use it, but his curiosity was getting out of control. “Bill, if you tell me, I will kiss you.”

“Oh yeah, I did say 'she' didn't I?” Yep, that did the trick.

“Who is she, Bill?”

He groaned loudly, “She's my sister.”

“Is she a demon too?”

“Yes.”

So he's been texting demons. What a world he lived in where demons had access to such technology. That explained quite a bit.

Dipper turned around to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder, “Oh no, you're not leaving so easily. You promised me something and you know I want it.”

“I never promised anythi-” his voice cut out when he was whipped around to face the man.

“Pine Tree,” Bill grinned, “don't be a liar.”

Dipper swallowed tensely, “O- Okay, but don't expect anything more. I really, really hate you.”

Bill bent over a little bit to be more of Dipper's height, a mockery more like it, and Dipper had the greatest idea ever.

He kissed Bill. On the cheek.

He laughed and stepped back, almost admiring the look of absolute confusion on Bill's face.

“I never said where,” Dipper taunted.

Bill glared, “You asshole.”

“You'll have to do better than that to get me to kiss you on the lips, you creep.”

“You insult me and flatter me in the same sentence.”

“It's fun,” Dipper smiled.

Bill grabbed Dipper's wrist, “You know what else is fun?”

“What?”

“This.” Bill pulled Dipper close and kissed him right on the lips. It was brief, due to Dipper violently shoving the man away. Bill nearly bust a gut laughing and pointing at Dipper.

“Look at your face!” he wheezed, one arm over his stomach, “It's so red you look sunburnt!”

Dipper wiped his mouth on his sleeve and shuddered, “Bill!” he yelled angrily, but he felt a little bit of laughter bubble up in his stomach.

No. No no no. Don't feel affection for this man, he is a creep! But as he looked at this idiot laughing his ass off on the grass (he had fallen down and was laughing on the ground at this point) Dipper couldn't feel pure hatred towards him anymore. Yeah, there was a lot of hatred, but it was making way towards affection, and he did not like that whatsoever.

Dipper started to walk away when he heard Bill's voice behind him protest, “No wait, okay that was bad, I'm sorry.”

He's sorry?

Dipper stopped and turned back around. “Are you?” he asked.

The man was standing at this point and messing with his shirt's cuffs. “I got a little ahead of myself.”

Was he talking about today, or referencing yesterday? “We still talking about you kissing me just then?”

“Dipper don't be as stupid as you usually are,” Bill sighed, “look, I really like you, in case it isn't obvious, but I don't want you to hate me.”

“A little late,” Dipper announced.

“Pine- Dipper, please.”

“Are you even aware of how wrong what you did was? What you are doing? I'm fairly certain this is illegal somewhere. At least I know for certain it's frowned upon in most societies. I don't like you, Bill, I'm actually terrified of you. I don't want you to be my boyfriend, I don't like you.” That whole spiel came out colder than he intended, but he needed it to be cold.

“No.”

“What?” Dipper was confused.

Bill looked at him with his good eye half-lidded, “I said no.”

How was he supposed to respond to that? “Excuse me?”

“You're being a little dramatic, don't you think?”

“I don't-”

“You know you like me, you're just afraid to show it.”

“Bill no-” he took a step back.

“It's okay, Pine Tree, I'm not mad at you.”

Dipper took another step back. “I don't understand.”

Bill grabbed him before he could step any farther back and pushed Dipper's back against the wall of the library. “You're just being a little bit paranoid. We're still okay.”

“I'm not being paranoid,” he argued.

“Pine Tree, it's all okay.”

Dipper opened his mouth to argue more when Bill kissed him again. Dipper wanted to push the man off and yell at him, but his arms wouldn't listen to him. His mind raced, thinking what he could do to get out of this unscathed.

Give Bill what he wants. That's how to do it. Fighting is useless. Give him what he wants.

So he did. Dipper kissed Bill back, trying to feign emotion. Fake this passion that the man wanted him to feel.

It was brief, but when they broke apart the feeling between them lingered for a little bit. Dipper felt a small push of desire, but he quenched it easily when he realized just how scared for his life he was. He looked away from Bill, “I- uh, I have to get home.”

The man let go of the teen and grinned, “Alright, kiddo, be safe.”

Dipper turned away from him and began the walk home, not wanting to be safe.


	10. End

Due to a series of issues, I am no longer continuing this fic. It's mainly due to my own fears of getting doxxed on sites like tumblr and losing everything just because some people take offense to what I am writing, but also because it has been a year, give or take a few days, since I updated this fic, and with Gravity Falls updating as rarely as it has been, and with it ending soon, I have little attachment to the characters any more. I'm getting too out of character, I just don't care as much as I used to.

Relating to the doxxing issue, perhaps I am too sensitive, too paranoid, but to me writing stuff like this isn't safe for me. I've lost all inspiration to write because of the times this fic has been stolen and sold without my permission, and because I consistently see people getting absolutely wrecked reputation-wise just because they drew or wrote something that was considered offensive and problematic.

I don't want to lose everything over a poorly-written fic.

I do have an end for this fic, I do have some more written out. I just won't post it. Soon enough I'll just delete this fic anyways, wipe my records clean.

I may do more things like this fic in the future, but that will have to wait until these sites become safer for fiction writers.

 

Remember. It's fiction, not real life. What I write is not what I condone. It is a fictional setting with fictional characters.

Sorry to disappoint you all, I really wish it didn't have to end up like this.

If you're interested in the ending I had planned, shoot me an ask off-anon at sugarfreefox.tumblr.com and I'll give you a short synopsis.

-sugarfreefox


End file.
